Last of a Kind
by Rose202
Summary: An impossible love in dangerous times. Chaos is tearing Alagaesia apart, and it's up to the Varden and their Dragon Riders to stop it. But can Meralaena protect her friends, do her duty and fall in love with the wrong man all at the same time? Complete!
1. Chapter 1

**Ok, so here is my story 'Eragon – Last of a Kind' rewritten. I'm going to be publishing addition chapters based on reviews this time, so if I get three reviews per chapter I'll publish the next one. I already have up to chapter nine written, so chapter two will be out as soon as I get the reviews :) Please Read and Review, and let me know what you think! Thanks guys! **

**Note: I do not own the Inheritance books or the charect****ers (unfortunatly), all the credit for that goes to Christopher Paolini. I do own Meralaena and all my other OC's. **

Meralaena gasped as the tide of freezing water washed over her head, despite her efforts to remain above water level. A moment later she surfaced, coughing and spluttering and spitting out water as she searched desperately for her companion who should be somewhere near her...There! She saw him, a little to her left downstream – If the raging river she fought against could be called a stream – struggling to keep his head above the water that sought to drown them both. The river was picking up speed now, and vaguely at the back of her mind she dreaded what that might mean. She called his name, but the roar of the angry river caught her voice and whisked it away before he heard her cry. His shoulder length black hair was plastered to his head, his normally handsome features distorted by a fierce snarl as he thrashed against the current, fighting its ever-increasing strength. Meralaena struck forward, trying to lesson the distance that separated them. She called again, and this time he heard her. He turned as best he could as they rushed down the river, the land whizzing past in a blur. He shouted something but the roar of the river drowned his voice. They floundered through the water, trying to reach each other. Just as they did the river rounded a sharp bend, nearly dashing them against sharp protruding rocks, and revealed what she had feared: A waterfall. Not a small, tame waterfall, but a huge cliff of monstrous size, with gallons and gallons of water pouring over it every second. They both knew if they went over neither would survive what waited at the bottom. Meralaena glanced at the shore on both sides - too far. They could never swim that far before the falls swept them over the edge and to their deaths! But before either of them could do anything, she heard a sound above the rushing water that sounded something like - no. A suspicion began to grow in her fear-laden mind. It couldn't be Eragon and Saphira. Not now. They were back in Surda, miles away! And yet the sound she heard was undeniably the sound of a dragon's roar. She tried to turn and look, but before she could she plunged over the edge, her companion's hand in hers. Everything become a terrifying mix of water in her mouth and eyes, a brilliant white light from somewhere above her, her own scream echoing in her ears and her friend's fearful face. They fell for a few long, heart-stopping seconds. Then a shuddering impact shook her body and rattled her limbs and she knew no more.  
>Hundreds of miles away, Meralaena jolted out of her sleep with a strangled yell.<p>

Melaena sat gasping on her bedroll, gulping air into her strained lungs as she tried to calm her racing heart. She took a deep breath and held it, then another, and let it out only to discover it hadn't helped. When minutes past and she was still breathing heavily, she got up and walked over to the ashes of the old campfire. She glanced at the forest around her, then quietly muttered,

"Brisingr". The fire sprang to life, crackling merrily. The drop of her energy from the brief spell was imperceptible. She sighed and sat down, warming her hands against the cheery flames as she pondered this latest dream.  
>It wasn't the only dream she had had recently; not by a long shot. She sighed again and wondered what her dreams might mean, if they meant anything. She shifted uneasily, the noise of the river Ramr rushing in the distance, unsettling her. She thought of the dark haired man she had seen in her dreams. Who was he? Why was she dreaming about a man she had never seen or met? What could it mean? Was it even important? As the last question crossed her mind she laughed out loud. She well knew her dreams were often, if not always, more than just her mind wandering at night. Heeding her dreams had helped guide her before.<br>She shook herself out of her trance and felt her hair splatter on her face with a wet squelch. Surprised, she got to her feet, walked a few paces from the fire and said, "Nimuue elste thruartha". A mirror appeared in the air, surprising her further with what she saw.

She was wet.

Not damp, but soaking wet, and now that she was aware of it, she could feel it too.  
>"What? But I haven't been near water in the last..." Her voice trailed off and she gasped as a bizarre but likely possibility presented itself to her.<br>Twice before, after having one of her foredreams, Meralaena had woken to find that she had brought a piece of the dream back with her to the waking world.  
>Once it had been a dream of being hunted in a forest of ferns and pine; she had woken with her head lying on a small branch of pine where there had certainly not been one before.<br>The other was a dream of a dragon; a sapphire dragon, sparkling like pure, blue flame flying across a moonlit sky with a rider on her back. Meralaena had awoken with three shining blue dragon scales clutched in her hand. Four days after that, Eragon and Saphira had shown up on the Varden's front door step. Meralaena had been away when they arrived, but she had found out the unlikely timing from her sister after.  
>And now here she was, soaking wet after dreaming about drowning. It was the only explanation, which in itself explained a lot.<br>"So," Meralaena said to herself. The dream couldn't be meant for her alone - they warned her about things that would effect more people that her individually. In the past they had warned her about things that would concern the whole of the Varden or the whole empire, such as that a new Rider would rise, as her second dream had said. But what did drowning have to do with anything important? And what about her other dreams of the past four nights? They had been nothing about drowning. But they had all shared two things in common; her, and the mysterious dark haired man. In every dream she felt like they were friends – maybe more. She always felt an overwhelming sense of trust for him, and she knew by the look in his eyes that he trusted her too. But Meralaena was too sensible to think that if she ever met this man in the real world she would trust him - not at first, anyway. If he was even real.  
>She ended the spell that held the mirror in existence and watched it fade away. She grabbed an extra blanket from her pack and curled up again on her bedroll; it was too much work to change her wet clothes (which had dried considerably) just then. She closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.<br>When morning came, it found her already busy, preparing for the day. Her stomach knotted with nervousness; what she would be attempting in the next few hours would be far more dangerous than falling into an angry river, even one with a waterfall at the end. Meralaena went over Nasuada's instructions again, making sure she had everything planned perfectly.  
><em>"Patience," Nasuada had said. "Patience will get you inside Uru'baen more efficiently than any fancy spells or strategies, though you may need both before all is said and done. You know your task well enough..." Here she had paused, then fiercely whispered, "You <em>_must__get the dragon egg! Nothing is more important than this. Your success or failure may determine the fate of the Varden. It would, if not for Eragon and Saphira. And remember", Nasuada's eyebrows met in a threatening frown, "If you happen across Murtagh and Thorn, do not let them deter you if you can help it."___

Meralaena had known exactly what she meant by that; Murtagh and Thorn had killed her sister, and Meralaena's one and only best friend, at the Battle of the Burning Plains. Meralaena wasn't there at the time, but the pain it caused her still had not faded, and she knew it wouldn't for a long, long time. The memory of feeling her sister and the second last member of their species die across the miles that separated them was haunting. Nasuada knew this and she simply didn't want emotions interfering with Meralaena's mission in any possible way.  
>Meralaena finished packing and slid a skirt over her pants as to avoid drawing attention. Squaring her shoulders, Meralaena took a deep breath and set out toward Uru'baen, stronghold of the most dangerous man in all of Alagaesia.<p>

**Me: So what'd you think? Does it suck? Is it ok? Should I publish chapter two? Thanks for reading and please review :D **

**Meralaena: Yeah guys, if you've read this far then you must find it as least partially interesting. And your feedback means a lot to Rose**

**Me: Yes it does. **

**Meralaena: So Rose, you gonna tell me who that guy I'm dreaming about is? **

**Me: *evil laugh* not in a million years **

**Meralaena: *death glare* **

**Me: You'll find out soon enough! Besides, it's really not that hard to guess. **

**Meralaena: It isn't? **

**Me: Well, for anyone who's read the books. Which you haven't. **

**Meralaena: Exactly. Which is why you should tell me now so I know whether to kiss him or kill him when we meet. **

**Me: *gulp* Mera! **

**Meralaena: Don't call me Mera. **

**Me: I created you, I can call you whatever I want. **

**Meralaena: Oh please, kill me now... **

**Me: Anyway, thanks for reading and please review! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Thanks to all my reviewers, you guys are amazing! So I'm gonna try for five reviews on this chapter before chapter three comes out. Thanks for reading and please review!**

Meralaena walked down the wide, gravelly dirt road, keeping her head down with the hood of her dark green cloak pulled down low over her face. As far as she knew, everybody who knew her by sight was either dead or with the Varden, so there was small danger of her being recognized... But still, she was tense and wary as the moved closer to the meeting place she had arranged with her two companions before leaving Ellesmera, the elves capital and stronghold. Her hand-and-a-half sword Falaevrin was hidden underneath the cloak, and her two long hunting knives were slung across her back, also hidden by the green material. She reached back nonchalantly and fingered one hilt, protruding just past her shoulder beside her neck. She favored the knives in a fight nearly as much as she did her sword, as they afforded more maneuverability.  
>She glanced around at the road behind and ahead - nobody in either direction. Meralaena slipped of the road and walked a ways into the dense forest that surrounded it, searching for the place they had agreed on to meet. In a clearing a little ways in, three figures sat, apparently waiting for someone. Her skin tingled as she approached, evidence of the many spells protecting the area.<br>"Greetings, Meralaena", the first said in the Ancient Language, an elf with silver white hair and deep purple eyes.  
>"Greetings, friend," Meralaena replied, also in the Ancient Tongue. She greeted the other two figures, also elves, then turned back to the first. "How goes it with you?"<br>The elf, whose name was Glenaldor, muttered an additional spell that would prevent anyone from eaves dropping and then said,  
>"It is all going according to plan. Everything is in place. The strongest spells guarding Galbatorix's castle have been either neutralized or weakened so you can get past them. That is," he frowned, "The spells we know of. There may be others. The only other danger is that our spells of concealment might not fool the king once they start wearing down. You will have to move quickly to avoid the risk of detection". Meralaena nodded and turned to the others, whose names were Alanna and Dusan, and said,<br>"And you mean to accompany me?"

Dusan nodded, and Alanna said,  
>"There will undoubtedly be guards, spellcasters and magicians inside the fortress itself. Queen Islanzadi of the elves has sent us to assist you, not because you require assistance but so the effort of fighting off the King's entire guard at once does not exhaust you so much that you are unable to defeat Murtagh and Thorn if they find you. If Galbatorix himself was to find us, though..."<br>Alanna's voice trailed off, but Meralaena understood. If Galbatorix found them while they were still inside the castle walls they would be dead and gone, no questions asked. However, one thing still puzzled her.  
>"But why, may I ask, did Queen Islanzadi send you? I mean no offence, but aren't you...well, you know. Aren't you still children, by elf standards? Why would she send you, the only two elf children in existence, on such a dangerous mission?" Meralaena asked.<br>It was Dusan who replied, and Marelaena thought she detected a slight edge to his voice. "Her Majesty sent us because she knows that we are the two most powerful elves in Alagaesia, because of our youth. Unlike humans and dwarves, who grow more powerful in their magical abilities as they age, Elves are born with massive amounts of magic at our disposal which steadily decrease as we grow older. Already our power is less that what it has been."  
>"Enough of this," Glenaldor interrupted. "You must go quickly to get there when the main city gates open." Meralaena glanced at the sun and was surprised at the time.<br>"You're right, we must go". Merelaena said, and began quickly going over the plan once more. "Glenaldor, you will wait for me at Furnost with a fresh horse. And be ready for a wild chase, the Emperor's men may be right behind me. If I am being pursued by Murtagh and Thorn, we must not let them see to whom the egg has passed, and then split up, forcing them to divide their troops. If it becomes inevitable that they will capture us, you, Glenaldor, must transport the egg to Surda where it will be safe with Eragon, and I will contact Nasuada and inform her of our situation so she and the Varden know what has happened. Alanna and Dusan, you will flee back to Bullridge as swiftly as you may after we have succeeded in stealing the egg and make your way back to Ellesmera. Once we are out of the castle you will have done all you can. Try to avoid drawing attention. Have you mastered the spell that will make you appear human?"  
>Both young elves nodded their heads.<br>"Well then," She sighed. Turning to Glenaldor, she gave the elves traditional greeting and farewell, "Atra du evarinya ono varda, Dathedr melom". May the stars watch over you, honored friend.  
>He replied with the second formal line; "Atra esternii ono thelduin, Meralaena-elda". May good fortune rule over you, Lady Meralaena.<br>He repeated the lines with Dusan and Alanna, then strode over to his fine bay stallion picketed near the clearing, mounted and rode away towards Furnost, crying as he went, "Se onr sverdar sitja hvass!" May your swords stay sharp!

Turning away before he was out of sight, Meralaena, Alanna and Dusan began the short journey to Galbatorix's castle, removing the protective spells from the clearing as they left.  
>They arrived a few minutes before the gates were scheduled to open. There were only eight guards; two posted at the end of the massive drawbridge, one on either side, two more standing at attention at the gate itself, and one stationed above on the wall armed with a spear, and one lookout. None of them were shocked to see so little defense guarding a fortress; Galbatorix didn't need protection, and anyway, no one was crazy enough to try to enter uninvited. Or so he liked to think.<p>

Meralaena flinched as an angry roar reached them from beyond the walls. She assumed that the sound came from either Shruken or Thorn, both dragons spelled bad news. Alanna and Dusan, both under spells that changed their appearance to a humans', crouched beside her, waiting for the gates to open.  
>A horn sounded from somewhere within the dark, foreboding walls and the gated creaked open, ever so slowly. Meralaena heard the sound of marching feet from behind her; probably new recruits for the army, she thought. The first block men making up the large column neared the gates and passed through, their pounding feet clouding the air so she could barely see the men. Perfect. She made sure none of the guards were looking, then signaled her companions, and they slipped out into the open and slid into formation with the solders, counting on Glenaldor's spells to counter act the King's.<br>Meralaena held her breath as they passed through the gate and into the castle unchallenged. When the soldiers marched by a dark, seldom used corridor, she signaled Alanna, who muttered a quick spell under her breath. The eyes of the soldiers around them glazed over, a happy contentment on their suddenly slack faces. The three fugitives darted down the corridor, unnoticed by the oblivious soldiers, then waited till the column had passed by.  
>"Good," Meralaena whispered. "Now all we have to do is make our way to the north wing, where the egg is kept. After that, we've just got to..."<p>

"Get out alive? "Dusan volunteered in attempted humor.  
>Meralaena gave a small, strained smile. "Yes. After that, we've just got to get out alive."<br>She peered out of the shadowed corridor into the hallway they had abandoned. No trace of the soldiers remained, and it was completely quiet. A bit _too quiet, she thought. Trying to shake off her unease, Meralaena said,_

"The chamber the egg is kept in is the second-best guarded place in this castle, the first being the throne room itself. Undoubtedly we will meet some of Galbatorix's most powerful spellweavers in or around the hold, maybe even Murtagh and Thorn. When we do, I need you two to-"  
>A sudden noise behind her made her spin around, a warning on her lips, but she was too late. A bright ball of energy hurtled toward her from a tall figure clad all in black, and as the magical attack struck flesh Meralaena's mind exploded in a dizzying world of pain.<p>

**Ooh, cliffhanger. Review to find out what happens and thanks so much for reading :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks so much to my reviewers, you guys make me smile **** I'm going for three reviews before chapter four. And I'm sorry it took me a whole four days to update, I've been gone on a fieldtrip with my grade 11 class. But the next chapter will be up as soon as I get the reviews **** and logging out and leaving three anonymous reviews doesn't count. So please read, enjoy and let me know what you thought **** constructive criticism is always welcome. So, without further ado, let's get on with chapter three. **

Meralaena gasped as the ball of magic struck, hitting her left shoulder before she could react. Her vision dimmed, and she vaguely felt her body flying through the air. She landed with a thud, hitting her head on the cold stone floor, but instead of sending her over the edge and losing consciousness, the jolt served to wake her up a little. Instead of a hazy mass, she saw Alanna and Dusan exchanging blows with the mage who had attacked them.  
>Her vision improved still more, nearly back to normal, and she raised herself up on one elbow, head spinning. Meralaena managed to stagger to her feet, still dizzy. She gathered her wits, drew her sword, and threw herself at their opponent, hoping to make a quick end to the fight. She was not so lucky.<p>

He saw her coming and dodged her oncoming blow, moving to one side and striking at her weakened left shoulder with his short sword. She blocked him easily, whirled away, and then stopped, realizing that Alanna was doing something.  
>"Ancalimona!" Alanna yelled in the Ancient Language, blasting the man with a cloud of ice from her fingertips as soon as Meralaena was far enough away. He stiffened, ice extending over his body, slowly freezing him into a solid cube. Alanna felt the drain on her energy from the spell, sudden and large, but she maintained her hold on the man, despite his efforts to break free from her icy grip.<br>Meralaena approached the others warily, shoulder and head throbbing. The mage's eyes flickered in his face but otherwise he was completely immobile. Very soon he would be dead, frozen to death if Alanna did not end the spell.  
>"Alanna," Meralaena said softly, "You can release him. There is no need for his death." Dusan cast her a confused look as Alanna complied, severing the flow of magic rebounding from her to the man. The spell stopped, then began to withdraw, but before the magician could utter the incantation that would free him completely, Meralaena said, "Slytha". He collapsed to the floor.<br>"Are you all right Alanna? Dusan?" She asked.  
>"A few scratches and bruises, but nothing serious," Dusan replied. "And you? That was a hard fall you took," he said, looking a little worried.<br>"I'm fine," Meralaena lied_. "_My shoulder's aching up a storm, but it won't kill me." To herself, she thought, _I should have detected that spellcaster long before he was close enough to attack! He must have been guarded by wards that prevented me from sensing his presence, in which case we'll need to be more careful than ever.  
><em>"Well, if we're all unharmed we should go quickly." Alanna said, glancing at the motionless body on the floor. "I don't want to meet any of his friends, if they happen to be close by somewhere."  
>Meralaena and Dusan agreed, and they began the journey to the north wing of the castle. Twice they were forced to hastily cast invisibility spells and squash against a wall as soldiers marched past them. As they neared the north wing military activity and security increased, until Meralaena gave up trying to avoid all the sentries and pulled the other two into a dark storage room filled with what looked like weapons and armor.<br>"We can't make it any further without being spotted and stopped unless we split up," she said. "I'll go in and attempt to get the egg out. If they discover me, you will know. Do not attempt to assist me, or they would only capture you as well. If they catch me I want you to forget about me- Yes, Dusan," She said in response to Dusan's exclamation. "Forget about me and try to get out alive. Besides, I should be able to handle getting in and out of the main chamber alone. It's getting out of the castle that's going to be a problem."

Alanna and Dusan reluctantly agreed; neither liked the idea of separating.

Meralaena bade them farewell, feeling a twinge of unease as she slipped down another corridor alone. She entered a long hallway with a tall ceiling and dark, off-black walls, dimly lit by torches in brackets along the walls. A shudder ran up and down her spine. Magic was strong here. She could feel it. She could sense it. Power shivered across the hallway like heat in the hottest desert. She could almost _smell __black__enchantments__._ It wreathed around her and thickened the air, making it hard to breathe. The sensation grew steadily stronger the nearer she came to the end of the hallway.

Her courage nor her steady pace faltered as she neared two huge, black gates, made of solid iron or some other like metal. Still, Meralaena didn't waver. She drew on her own power, then directed it at the massive gates that barred her way. But instead of trying to blast them aside, she simply extended her magic, found the locking mechanism, and commanded it to unlock. Nothing moved. _Of course, __she thought__. There must be counter spells placed here to prevent anyone entering who shouldn't._ Still, that could be solved easily enough. She backed away a few paces and cast a spell that would prevent anyone within ten miles from hearing what she was about to do. Then she drew power from within herself again, more and more till it was a boiling storm raging to be released. She aimed the blast at the gates, and threw a bolt of pure energy at them.

They buckled inwards, collapsing into themselves with a colossal explosion. Meralaena's wards, which she had placed around herself before leaving the Varden, protected her from the shock wave created by the explosion. As the flames cleared and debris stopped flying everywhere, Meralaena shielded her eyes from the brilliant light now emanating from the chamber. She climbed over the twisted, mangled gates, parts still red hot from the heat, and jumped down from the heap into the egg chamber. The lack of guards unnerved her, but she was too excited to think about that. The room she found herself in was enormous, with pitch-black walls and a hard, smooth floor, which might have been polished granite or marble. It was well lit by a large, flameless dwarf-style lantern hanging from the ceiling. The light it produced was an evil shade of sickly blood red, and it cast ghastly shadows on the walls. In the center of the chamber was a raised platform with elaborate carvings of dragons and hideous, twisted serpentine shapes engraved onto it. Steps led up to the platform's top, and in the middle of the top, nestled in a nest made of black stone, was a white dragon's egg. It was pure white, with intricate silver veins running over its surface, gleaming brighter than any silver she had ever seen. It glowed faintly, and the dull white light coming from it throbbed slightly, brighter one second and dim the next, like a heartbeat.

Meralaena stared at it for perhaps a minute, then walked slowly over to the platform and climbed the steps. Reverently she touched the white surface, running her hand over the satin smooth egg and tracing the silver with her fingers.

Then the moment was over and she remembered the guards that should be there but were not, and her friends waiting for her outside. She picked the egg up and slid it into her leather satchel, which she slung on her back. The moment the egg's light vanished from the room it suddenly grew much darker. She hadn't realized how much light it was producing. Now bathed in crimson lantern light she walked quickly back to the entry and the broken gates. Meralaena heaved herself up onto the mangled pile of rubble and dropped down on the other side, after checking to make sure the corridor was deserted.

Ten minutes later she burst into the storage room where Alanna and Dusan awaited her. They got to their feet quickly, not wanting to ask if she had the egg but unable to resist. "I got it!" Meralaena crowed in triumph. "It's here." The elves sighed in relief and began plying her with questions, but Meralaena interrupted. "There's no time for all that now, we must try to get out before someone realizes it's gone and alerts the King to intruders, because you know what would happen then." Alanna and Dusan's inquiry's reluctantly subsided, but Meralaena knew as soon as they were safe, she would have to tell them everything. She didn't mind. She made sure the egg was secure, then opened the door and stepped out.

It was her first mistake. Too late, she realized that she hadn't checked the hallway for people. A noise to her left made her turn just in time to see a kitchen girl, no older than ten or eleven, disappear down a side hallway yelling, "Intruder! Thief! Assassin! Help!"

Meralaena bit back a snarl. "Dusan! Alanna!" She snapped. "We've got to move quickly. Hopefully no one will take that girl seriously, but if they do…" Dusan nodded. "I know," he said.

Shouts suddenly invaded the quiet corridor, along with the ominous sounds of armor and weapons clashing. Then a sound reached their ears that chilled their blood and froze their courage where they stood; a dragon's enraged roar.

And it came from right behind them.

As one, Meralaena, Dusan and Alanna spun around and drew their swords, hoping the dragon challenging them was Thorn, Murtagh's dragon, and not Shrewken, the King's.

It was Thorn.

Meralaena looked briefly at the huge, blood red dragon before her, snarling and snapping his jagged maw at them. Spikes ran along his back, much like Saphira's, and his huge wings were unfurled in a threatening pose.

But what held her complete attention was the dark haired man on his back. The man was dark yet handsome, and he held the famous red-bladed sword Zar'rock. She stared at him. He stared back. Murtagh, son of Morzan, traitor to the Varden, Thorn's rider, first servant of Galbatorix and an enemy rider - was the man from her dreams!

**Me: Whoo-hoo! So, if you hadn't guessed already, the man was Murtagh. And I know the last egg is supposed to be green, but I wrote this before Paolini said that and anyway, I like white better. So what did you think? Three reviews before chapter four **** it's written and waiting for your feedback. And leaving a review and then logging out and leaving another anonymous review doesn't count. If you've read this far then a few words of encouragement would be greatly appreciated **** you guys are awesome, thanks for reading! **

**Meralaena: Whoa, hold up a second, I want to talk to you. **

**Me: *apprehensive gulp* **

**Meralaena: Murtagh? Honestly? The dude killed my sister, why would you make me dream about him? **

**Me: You'll find out. **

**Meralaena: I don't want to find out anything else about this subject! **

**Me: Too bad, you're my character! You do as I say!**

**Meralaena: *Strangles me* Not anymore, I'm not. **

**Me: Gah! Help, she's killing me! *unintelligible screaming, thudding of body on floor***

**Meralaena: Now that she's out of the way, I shall take control of this story. I hope that you've all enjoyed it so far, and that Rose's antics have not bored you to tears. Thanks for reading, and please drop a review. **


	4. Chapter 4

**I want to take some time to thank all my reviewers individually, because I am so thankful to each and every one of you for your encouragement. So, my thanks to Storybookonlegs, Woody, Flimawin, ShatterTheHeavens, Evie888 and my most constant reviewer and critic, Restrained Freedom. Thank you so much, you guys are awesome! **

**I'm going to try for three reviews before the next chapter. Any advice or criticism is welcome, thanks for reading and please drop a review! Thanks guys!**

Meralaena and Murtagh stared at each other in shock, both remembering many dreams about the other and asking themselves how it could be possible. Shock paralyzed her, and she was sure afterwards that Murtagh was feeling much the same. She stared into his eyes – such beautiful, dark eyes – and found her own longing and confusion mirrored there.

Then Thorn roared again, and Alanna grabbed her hand and pulled her through a side door just before the dragon blasted the place they had been with a raging inferno of fire. Dusan yelled,

"Come on!" When Meralaena didn't move, he and Alanna both took an arm and dragged her after them as they ran down the narrow hallway they found themselves in. It was more like a tunnel than a hallway, with cold stone walls and no light. That wouldn't be a problem though; the elves could see well enough in the dark, as could Meralaena, though she wasn't an elf. Behind them, Thorn roared in frustration and clawed at the entrance, but he wouldn't fit through the narrow opening.

Meralaena shook the elves' hands off and ran, but her mind was far away, struggling to comprehend that the man she had dreamed of was Murtagh. _Murtagh!_ The enemy! How could her dreams have been so wrong? The sense of trust she had felt in her dreams was so real, it seemed impossible for them to mislead her. Her other dreams had always spoken truth, or helped her in some way. But how could this help anyone?

_Unless it's Murtagh you're supposed to be helping. _Her own voice sounded in her mind._ _You know he only serves Galbatorix because he has no choice. __Quite literally, Meralaena reflected. Murtagh hadn't always fought for the King. He had come with Eragon and Saphira to the Varden of his own free will, then later had proven his loyalty to them only to be kidnapped by two of Galbatorix's magicians soon after. Months later, when everyone believed him dead, he had appeared again as the king's new Rider. Galbatorix had broken into his mind and discovered Murtagh's true name, giving him complete control over both Murtagh and his newly hatched dragon. He became a slave to Galbatorix, unwillingly forced to do his bidding and fight against the people he once fought alongside. Pity and rage welled up in equal amounts.

At that moment, Meralaena swore to herself that she would find a way to free him and Thorn from Galbatorix. _Even if it takes ten thousand years, I will do everything within my power to break the chains binding Murtagh to that…that bloodthirsty, power-hungry tyrant! She thought to herself fiercely. _I am immortal. I have time. And persistence is all that is needed to do the impossible. __

"Meralaena?" Alanna broke into her thoughts. "We're back at the main gate," she said.

Meralaena blinked in surprise; she hadn't realized they'd moved so far in such a small amount of time.

"The gate's been closed, and the portcullis lowered. What do we do? Do we wait for them to open the gate or blast it off its hinges and make a dash for it?" Alanna asked.

Meralaena thought for a moment, estimating their chances of escape. "I think blasting it off its hinges sounds like a good idea, but Galbatorix would undoubtedly send Murtagh and Thorn after us if he doesn't come himself, and we don't want that. No, we'll wait a little while for Galbatorix to assign his new troops to their outposts, then sneak out when they leave. It shouldn't take more than an hour. But in the meantime-" She slipped her bag with the egg in it off her back, wincing as it rubbed against her sore shoulder, and handed it to Dusan. "There's something I want to do. I can't explain, it would take too long, but I want you to wait here for me. If the chance to escape arises and I'm not back, then take it! Don't wait for me if it puts you in danger. There's…something I want to do."  
>"But where are you going?" demanded Alanna. "Are you crazy? You can't just leave without telling us where you're going! It's too dangerous! Not to mention irresponsible!" Dusan nodded in agreement with his sister.<br>Meralaena narrowed her eyes at them and spoke in a deadly soft tone. "Can't? Can't? Did you just say I can't? And is it just me, or did the word irresponsible cross your lips? Don't forget, I am over two and a half thousand years old. You can rest assured that for anything I do, I have a very good reason!" She could have gone on longer, but at that moment a deep drum sounded from somewhere above them on a higher level, cutting off Alanna's enraged protests.

_Boom._

Dusan shuddered with unexplained dread, and cold shivers ran up and down Alanna's back. Meralaena, who recognized the drum for what it meant, hated the sound even more than her companions.

_Boom. _The sound of cruel fate itself.

"Ok," Meralaena said, trying and failing to keep the tremor out of her tone. "A little change of plan. We get out. Now! Those drums mean Galbatorix is alerted to our presence, and worse, it means he himself is coming for us. That war drum hasn't been sounded since he last left Uru'baen, some fifty years ago. Alanna, you and Dusan blast the gate open. I'll carry the egg and deal with whatever comes from the other side, whether man or beast. Once we're clean away start running. We can only hope Galbatorix won't leave his stronghold once we've escaped these walls because of the risk it poses to him.

Alanna and Dusan tersely agreed to her simple but workable plan.

_Boom._

"Right," muttered Dusan. "Let's do this!" He handed the egg back to Meralaena, then with Alanna jumped out of the dark corridor they'd been hiding in and ran toward the gate, followed closely by Meralaena, sword in hand. One man saw them coming and shouted a warning to his fellows, but it didn't matter. The elves summoned their power, then as one, hurtled two blasts of power at the wooden gates. They shuddered and fell apart in a cloud of splinters and smoldering charcoal, the guards piled someplace in the rubble.

_Boom._

They leapt over the charred gates and landed ready to fight the guards on the other side. Only one survived the explosion. Meralaena lunged at him, swinging her sword in a strong crosscut. He barely managed to block her first attack, and the second. The third left his headless body bleeding in the dirt.

_Boom_.

_"_Let's get out of here!" Alanna called. As one they turned toward the open road. "Wait," Meralaena said.

"What?" Alanna demanded in disbelief. "We have to get out of here!" Her tone pitched up as realization dawned on her. " You can't still be thinking of staying behind!"

Meralaena gazed up at the towering black walls and thought of Murtagh.

_Boom. _

_I can't leave him, _she thought despairingly.

_Boom._

"No, you're right," she said. She forced herself to speak the words, the responsible words, the word that were expected from her. "We have to leave." It pained her to say it, but she knew it would require more than just her magic and faith in a dream to free Murtagh from Galbatorix.

But I'm not giving up, she thought to herself. I'm just being responsible and waiting a little while.

_Boom._

"Well, let's go then!" Alanna said impatiently. Meralaena turned away from the castle. Suddenly another sound joined the relentless drumming. A low horn throbbed in the air, and they could hear marching feet from behind them. Without another word they sprinted across the bridge and down the road, the inhuman speed of the elves and Meralaena's own kind carrying them faster than a flying hawk. After ten minutes of silent running, the horn sounded again in the distance accompanied by one last faint boom from the war horn. Then quiet.

Meralaena knew better than to relax. She was sure Galbatorix had figured out the egg was gone by then, and that he would do everything in his power to retrieve it, whether by coming himself or sending someone else to do his dirty work.

Meralaena didn't tire as quickly as the elves, so it was Alanna and Dusan who required a rest shortly before sunset.

"We don't need to sleep," Dusan panted, bent double and gasping for air, "But I for one can't go any farther without a breather, even if the whole Empire was on my heels."

So they found a clearing with logs to sit on and a noisy stream running past it to rest and discuss their plans. It went against Meralaena's instinct to stop while she had energy left, but she knew the elves couldn't run any more without collapsing from sheer exhaustion.

"Now we have to decide what to do next. Meralaena?" Alanna asked simply, fixing her questioning gaze on the other woman. Meralaena took her time responding, staring into the flames of their small, smokeless campfire. "Well," she said slowly, "If we were sticking to the original plan, you two would have left for Ellesmera as soon as we had escaped Uru'baen. Seeing as you stayed to keep me company, which I'm grateful for, I'll have to travel slower than I would alone." She paused, thinking. "Glenaldor is waiting at Furnost with a fresh horse, one of your fleet-footed elven horses, to take the egg to the Varden. He knows we will be spent and exhausted from travelling when we get there. Do you plan to accompany me to meet Glenaldor, or return to your people in Ellesmera?"

Alanna glanced at Dusan. When he didn't speak, she said, "The faster you can pass the egg to Glenaldor the better, correct?" Meralaena nodded. Alanna continued, "And if you are alone you can travel faster than you can with us?" Again she nodded. Alanna seemed to reach a conclusion with herself. "Then I see it as our duty to the Varden and our people to return to Ellesmera so you may travel faster, giving you a better chance of success." Dusan looked at her as if he wished to differ but remained silent, regret shadowing his eyes. Alanna said, "I regret having to leave you thus, alone in enemy country, but speed is of the essence, as you understand." Meralaena did understand. She understood, but she didn't like it even though she would have told them to leave had they not reached the decision themselves.

"I guess I must leave you here then," Meralaena said regretfully. She got to her feet and strapped the egg on to her back in its satchel again and grabbed her pack from the ground. "May the stars watch over you, Lady Meralaena," Alanna said formally in the ancient language.

"May good fortune rule over you," Meralaena replied. Then, to the two elves' surprise, she shook Alanna and shook Dusan's hands vigorously, a human habit she had picked up. She let go awkwardly, then gave them each a quick hug. She lingered by the fire, prolonging the moment when she would have to leave. She looked around the clearing, and finding no reason to stay longer she turned and, with a last look passing from her to her new friends, turned and ran into the dark night.

Hours later, miles away from the clearing where they had parted, Meralaena's feet pounded a constant rhythm into the bass of her skull, giving her the beginnings of a headache. She didn't stop that night, or the next day, or the next night, her untiring strength sustaining her as miles melted away beneath her feet. The second day she stopped, hungry but not very tired, and killed a plump rabbit with magic. After eating she decided to take a quick rest. After all, the Empire would be far behind her now, and daytime was the best time to sleep anyway. Murtagh and Torn wouldn't know where to look, and even Kull, the giant monsters the king had until recently used as part of his army, couldn't keep up her pace for more than a day. Satisfied she was not closely pursued, she pulled a blanket from her pack and curled up next to her tiny cooking fire. She reached over to the satchel that held the egg and took it out. Its glow had faded, though it still pulsed light and dark and back again. She sighed and wrapped her arms around it as her eyes closed and she lost herself in the land of dreams.

_**Ok so I know nothing really exciting happened, but that's coming soon. The next chapter is probably my favorite chapter in the whole story, so I hope you guys are all excited :P I hope you enjoyed it, and like always, I would love it if you reviewed **__**I'm going to try for three reviews for this chapter before chapter five. Thanks so much for reading! **___


	5. Chapter 5

_**Ok guys, I apologize in advance for the length of this chapter, I had to rework some of the later chapters so this one will be shorter than the others. I'll update soon, I'm aiming for three reviews before the next chapter. My thanks to ShatterTheHeavens, Retrained Freedom and Twin Daggers for your reviews **____** you guys make me smile! And Twin Daggers, the answers to your questions will be revealed very soon, in the next three chapters I believe. So stay tuned **____** thanks for reading and please drop a review **___

_Pain. Unbearable pain. A flash of red light. Stars dancing before her eyes. Screaming. More pain. Then a cold voice broke through the haze._

_"__She escaped. __You allowed her to escape__!" The voice of dirt shifting in the grave. Another flash of light, and her own screaming filled the air again, though the sound sounded unlike her. The light extinguished. She lay panting on the ground before a black marble throne, her vision fading in and out of focus. The dead sounding voice spoke from behind her again. "The egg has been stolen from me from within my very stronghold." Meralaena wasn't fooled by the calm way he said it; he, whoever he was, was enraged underneath his calm demeanor. And she had a pretty good idea who. The man stepped into her view, and her suspicion was confirmed. _

_Galbatorix._

_Thorn was nearby, she could feel his presence, which was strange; she shouldn't be able to feel a Rider's dragon._

_ "__Get out there and find her. Bring the egg back to me. Take whatever troops you need," the king hissed through clenched teeth. "If you fail, I will be most… displeased." A thrill of fear, not her own, ran up her spine. Trembling, she dragged herself upright and stumbled to the door. _

_Then, against her will her body turned back to the throne briefly. _

_"__What of the woman?" she asked, but her voice was wrong – deeper, hoarser. A man's voice. _

_"__Just get the egg!" the king screamed. "Kill her, I don't care!"_

_Meralaena nodded and spun away, new fear rising, and she exited the chamber before Galbatorix could start hurting her again. _

_As she went she caught sight of her reflection in a nearby mirror that the king used for scrying his enemies. Murtagh's face, pale and shiny with sweat, stared back at her from the reflective surface, and she bit back a gasp. _

_Meralaena woke up with a start, shaking with fear. She looked around at her surroundings, afraid she would see Galbatorix's throne room, but she was in the same place she had been when she went to sleep. The same fire she used to cook the rabbit, now just gray ashes, smoldered beside her. She hadn't moved. Yet somehow she had seen Murtagh being punished for not catching her, and she was certain he was now flying as fast as Thorn could take him towards her. If he could find her._

_Is that what his life is like?__ She wondered, horrified at the short glimpse she had been given. __Does he live in constant terror of Galbatorix's anger?__ She had given up trying to tell herself her dreams were meaningless. Meralaena instinctively realized that this dream was different that the others – this one was closer, somehow. More real. She knew she had seen and felt what he had seen and felt, and it was nothing good. She also knew Murtagh was searching the countryside for her at that very moment._

_Meralaena got to her feet, still somewhat shaken, and stuffed her blanket back into her pack. Quickly she gathered her things, preparing for a long, hard run. She checked for her daggers on her back and strapped her sword to her hip, then slipped on her knee-high boots, lacing them up with fingers that shook slightly. _

_She reached for the egg, intending to put it away, and froze. _

_It twitched._

_She berated herself for being jumpy and picked it up. It moved again. Or rather, something __inside__ it moved, nearly making her lose her grip. There was no doubt about it. Hardly daring to breathe or guess what was happening, Meralaena shakily put the egg back down on the ground, sweat prickling her forehead. It grew still for a moment, then suddenly began rocking back and forth. She held her breath as she witnessed what she had deemed unthinkable for the over two and a half thousand years of her life. A small crack appeared, widening and lengthening. Then sharp shards of dragon egg scattered as a silver-white dragon hatchling made his entrance into the world._

_**Ooh, it hatched! Didn't see that one coming did you? You're gonna be sooo surprised when I tell you who she really is… Mwahahahaha! Ok sorry, I had caffeine, so I'm really hyper… anyway, if you want to find out what happens then please leave a review and tell me to update and I will. You guys are awesome! Again I'm sorry for how short this was, the next chapter will be longer. So do any of you have any ideas about who/what Meralaena is yet? Thanks for reading and please drop a review **_____


	6. Chapter 6

**Yay, two chapters in 24 hours! Here is chapter six :) Replies to my reviewers:**

**Restrained Freedom: BINGO! You're the first one who's manages to guess it ahead of time :) ****don't tell anyone though!**

**Twin Daggers: yep, I can be quite mean with cliffhangers. But I promise that if I ever do leave you with a cliffhanger I will finish it ****LOL thanks, writing the dream part was one of the funnest parts. As for her being ** about being destined to fall in love with Murtagh… who said anything about destiny? Right now Meralaena doesn't know what her dreams mean, but she is very logical, so she realizes that at the moment all she can do is try to help free M&T from Galbatorix. If she ever accomplishes that, she can start worrying about the age difference :P I made Meralaena more radical than Arya, she's more the type of person who doesn't give a crap about age and lives every day like it's her last… so I'm hoping to make as little a fuss as I can about the differences between Murtagh and Meralaena. And yes, it is kinda similar to C.P. so I'll probably try to stay away from that. As to her identity… NOPE! Hahaha I love keeping you in suspense… I'm so mean… anyway, I'll get on with it. All will be revealed soon! Thank you so much for your reviews!**

The little dragon lay in the midst of the shattered egg shards, blinking and peering about him curiously. He was completely white, except for a few thin veins of silver scales scattered among the white ones, glittering like polished ice in the firelight. The delicate contrast gave his coloring some variety from the stark white, accenting his large, silver-gray eyes that matched Meralaena's perfectly. His talons, teeth and spikes, although miniature, were razor sharp and gleamed pure white.

He spread his silvery-white wings, badly cramped from waiting nigh on a thousand years inside his egg, and flapped experimentally. Nothing happened, but he was not worried. Flying would come in time. He stretched, folded his wings again, and looked around him for the reason he had hatched; his Rider. She was sitting to his left, staring at him like her life depended on it.

Meralaena watched him in awe, completely stunned, barley able to comprehend the fact that the dragon had hatched, let alone for her. For her! When he fixed his beautiful soft gray eyes on her own, she reached forward with her mind, seeking his conciseness with her mind. She extended her hand as well, so at the same moment their thoughts met, her palm brushed the top of his head. (A/N one of my reviewers suggested that she trip and accidentally touch Char with her elbow, so the gedway ignasia goes there… LOL!)

A flash of white light blinded her, imprinting the dragon's image onto her mind. Pain lanced up her right arm like an electric jolt, and she pulled back with a startled gasp and grabbed her hand. The Gedwey Ignasia, the mark of the Riders, shone on her palm, gleaming silver-white. She stared at it for a full thirty seconds, then turned her gaze back to the dragon and stared at him for at least as long.

Meralaena yelped in surprise as the dragon's mind, vast and alien yet somehow familiar, brushed against her own as he said,

_When you're finished gawking at me, we had better get moving before the Empire finds us. I don't know how you managed to free me from Galbatorix, but I do know he won't be happy about your success._

"No- No, he isn't. You're right, we've got to move, it's just…" Her voice trailed off as the sheer magnitude of what had just happened assailed her again.  
><em>You never dared to hope that a dragon might hatch for you,<em> he said. _And now that one has, you don't know what to do. _

"Yeah," Meralaena said somewhat dazedly. "I still hasn't really caught up with it yet."

Changing the subject, danger momentarily forgotten, she asked, "What's you're name? Or do I pick one for you?"  
><em>It depends, he replied<em>. Considering I do not know many dragon names, it would be best if you suggested some, I think.<em>_

Meralaena thought for a moment. "Well," she said, "I know a few names. There was Galzra, Funroar, Entlamessa, Andune, Thorn, and of course Saphira, but you're a male so that wouldn't work. Do you like any of those? There were more but I can't think of them. Or if you prefer we could wait till we get back to the Varden and get Arya or Eragon to tell us some more dragon names, but something tells me you wouldn't want to wait that long."

The dragon laid his tiny head on her lap and sighed, then said, _No, I will pick one now. I like the way Andune sounds, but it doesn't feel quite right. Maybe something a bit simpler, like Flame or Starbane or Charcoal? _

Meralaena absently rubbed her left shoulder, still aching from the magician's attack in Uru'baen, and said, "I like Charcoal, but you're white, not black so Charcoal doesn't really fit." She paused, then proposed, "How about just Char?"

He flicked his tongue in and out, pondering the name. _Char. He said, testing it out_. Char…Yes, I like that. Simple, fierce and to the point, as is befitting one of my race. Something the bards can sing about in years to come. Yes, I think Char will do nicely.__

"Char it is then," Meralaena said. She leaned back and sighed, contemplating the tiny creature before her.

Then she suddenly remembered the danger they were in and the fact that Murtagh and Thorn were currently searching for them, and she berated herself for being careless. Char raised his head, sensing the drastic change in her mood. "We've got to get out of here," she said tersely, renewed tension in her voice. "We've lingered too long already. As for transporting you, you can't keep up on foot and I'm guessing you can't fly yet?"

Char climbed to his feet and said, _No, I cannot yet fly, but I can still fit into the satchel you carried my egg in. I could ride in that._

Meralaena agreed as she stood, brushing leaves and dirt off her black leather breaches. She picked the satchel up and held it open_. In you go, _she said playfully with her mind. Char cast her a sulky and insulted glance before wriggling into the soft brown bag, curling around like a cat till he was comfortable. She smiled as she watched him, affection for this new arrival into her life blooming in her heart, and to her mild surprise she found her facial muscles were sore from frowning for so long_._ I'm too serious, __she thought to herself.  
><em><em><em>Is that such a bad thing? <em>__Char asked. She blinked, her surprise deepening.

_It's going to take a while before I get used to you being inside my head, _she told him wryly. He snorted a puff of smoke at her and she laughed. From the dark forest surrounding them a wolf howled. Meralaena stuffed her blanket back into her pack which she slipped onto her right shoulder, threw some sand on the fire, then strapped the satchel carrying Char to her back again. She checked her daggers and sword for a second time, then buckled on her belt. When she was finished she looked around the clearing, making sure she had packed everything. Finding that she had, she turned and began to run toward Furnost where Glenaldor awaited them, Char sound asleep in his makeshift bed.

When the sun rose it found Meralaena sprinting strait as an arrow to the meeting place, a little abandoned shack she had found on a previous excursion into the Empire and which she had placed spells around to prevent anyone else from stumbling across it. Char stirred from his sleep, blinking. He yawned, showing all his pointy little teeth, and stretched as best he could in the confines of the leather bag. Meralaena felt him move around and contacted him with her mind.

_Good morning Char, _she said.

_Good morning Meralaena, _he replied. He shifted again, then asked__, Are we going to stop to rest today? My wings are getting very cramped. __Meralaena resisted the urge to ask him how he could be cramped in her bag if he could spend a thousand years in an egg without complaining, but instead said,____

___I wasn't planning on it. If you want, you could come out and ride on my shoulder. It's a bit risky though. We're traveling through unpopulated areas, but if some other traveler saw you it wouldn't take long for the news to reach the King, and we'd have half the army on out tail before you can say cockroach. We could stop briefly to stretch your wings, but we wouldn't be able to afford long. ___Wriggling around again, Char said___,___

____ I think we may have to. I don't need a long break, but riding in a cramped bag all night long can be tiring. ____Meralaena gave a mental nod. Unbidden, her mind returned to Murtagh and her dreams, and she slowed to a fast walk as an unlikely idea struck her.________

_____Char, you wouldn't by any chance know if there is a way to counter act an oath sworn in the Ancient Language, do you? Or a way to free someone Galbatorix has enslaved using their true name? I know it's unlikely and the elves believe both to be impossible, but maybe you as a dragon know more about it?_____

_Meralaena, _Char said gently, yet with a trace of reproach.__ Do you have so little faith in the Elves abilities? If such a spell existed they would have found it long before now. Galbatorix has been using people's true names against them for over a century. At first the Elves tried to find a way to counter act it, but eventually they were forced to conclude that nothing anyone can do can free a person from that kind of bond, whether they be willing or not. __More gently still, he continued___. I know your thoughts just as you know mine, for they are mine to know. They swirl around in your mind like a storm waiting to break before unleashing a torrent of rain upon the earth. You cannot undo what Galbatorix has done… Do not dwell on that which cannot be changed. Murtagh's fate is clear, and tragic as it is, there is naught you can do about it. I do not say don't try; but I caution you against hope for your efforts to free him from the King, for I know that is your intent. ___Meralaena had come to a complete stop by then.  
>"You know," she said out loud a bit shakily, "I think you understand me better than I do myself." Char nibbled on a strap of leather absently and said,<br>____It is always thus with Dragon and Rider. In time, you will come to understand me in the same way, and to such a degree we will be more one being than two. I do not know you as well yet as I will in months and years to come.____

Meralaena shivered and resumed walking, remembering the reason the conversation had started. "We should stop here if we're going to stop at all. This is the last stretch of countryside before we'll be in view of Furnost and other people." Char shifted in his bag and gave a nonverbal 'ok'.

**Me: So what did ya'awl think? There's some action coming in chapter seven, this was just a connective segment of sorts. I'm going for three reviews before chapter seven**

**Meralaena: yeah guys, just review already so this story will be over sooner.**

**Me: Aw Mera, you don't like my story?**

**Meralaena: I like it fine. It's you I don't like.**

**Me: *Hurt look***

**Meralaena: Oh come on, Rose. You know I'm not good with having you telling me what to do all the time.**

**Me: But I created you. Why wouldn't you like me?**

**Meralaena: Are you deaf? I can write my own life story.**

**Me: I suppose so…**

**Meralaena: Anyway, I thought I killed you!**

**Me: *Gulp* you did. I came back.**

**Meralaena: Yeah, whatever.**

**Me: Please review and thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Hello everyone! So from now on I'm going to be publishing chapters roughly once a week, just because I'm going crazy trying to keep up. Also it will depend on reviews; I still want three per chapter before the next one, so keep telling me what you think ****replies to last chapter's reviews:**

**ShatterTheHeavens: Thanks for your repeat reviews ****Actually, I really, really like the idea of him seeing her reflection. I've already written the next chapter though… maybe I can rewrite it and include that. Thanks for the awesome idea **

**Retrained Freedom: Thanks to you as well for reviewing again ****Yes, Char is not an ordinary hatchling, you'll see why soon. Thanks so much for your positive feedback, its people like you who keep me going **

**Persona: Thanks for the review ****and yes she is. Shhh *wink***

**Thanks to everyone who favorited/alerted/reviewed. So, on with the story!**

Murtagh ran down the dark corridor that led to the dragon keep, his thoughts and emotions a wild torrent of confusion and apprehension. He skidded to a stop before a heavily barred steel door. "Mah'morr," he muttered, buckling Zar'rock on. The huge door swung inward with a piercing shriek, revealing a large dark room, which smelled strongly of fresh and rotting meat in equal measures. Scales rattled against the cold floor with a metallic scraping sound, and Thorn scrambled to his feet in the furthest corner of the room.

"We have to get the egg back," Murtagh said shortly in response to his dragon's questioning look. "Galbatorix has ordered us to find the elf-maid that serving girl saw and retrieve it." He tried not to think about what 'retrieving' the egg from her might mean. "There'll be no end of trouble if she's an ally of the Varden's and she manages to get the egg to them."

_The female was no elf, _Thorn growled_. I saw the kitchen girl's memories through you and I know she is not one of the Elder Race.___

Murtagh's surprise rebounded across their mental link. Through all the dreams he had had of her, he had always assumed she was an elf; her physical perfection had meant she could not be human, and what else was there? "You think Galbatorix is wrong? How can you be so sure she was not an elf? Neither of us has even seen one before, so what makes you think that?"

Thorn rumbled deep in his chest as he answered, _A dragon can always tell if a being is an elf on sight, even if they are disguised by magic, because of the ancient spell that first created the riders. Our two races were bound together by the deepest kind of magic that exists. One of its effects is the ability to know an elf for what he - or she - is the moment we set eyes on them. In this, dragons are never wrong. And I can assure you, the egg-thief was not an elf. But…_Thorn's voice trailed off for a moment_. _But I don't think the king needs to know that yet, don't you agree?__

A pang of apprehension ran through Murtagh, but he said, "No… He doesn't need to know. But he will be very angry if he finds out we hid this from him." Thorn rumbled again, a faint current of anger underlining his own words.

_For what he has done to us alone we must do all we can to undermine his power, even if it comes at great cost. I, for one, refuse to be a willing slave. I would fight with all my strength rather that give in just to avoid experiencing pain. I know you fear him, _he said gently_, _but do not the lives of the thousands Galbatorix has slaughtered cry for vengeance? And is it not our duty as dragon and Rider, though he knows it not, to attempt to defy him? Our oaths may force us to do many things. But they cannot stop us from taking our every chance to topple the king from his filthy black throne, nor if the chance arises again, from taking Eragon up on his offer and joining him with the Varden. That is, __Thorn continued wryly__, _if one of us has found the counterspell that will allow us to leave Galbatorix.___

"Do you think there is such a spell?" Murtagh asked, hating to think what Galbatorix would do if he knew what they were talking about_._

_I do, _Thorn replied__, but it would be the most difficult thing we have ever attempted to find it, and even more so to complete it. The energy a spell like that would require would be…Not just big, but off the scale! We would require another rider's assistance, and we would need to be masters of the Ancient Language to compose the words. It might be easier to attempt to change our true names, as Eragon suggested, but one of the King's foul spells would undoubtedly alert him so he could learn our new ones. __He paused for a minute, then wistfully said,___ Ah, the path we are on is narrow and windy, and I cannot see to where it leads, nor what is waiting for us at the end.___

Murtagh was silent for a moment, thinking, then, "We must go," he said. "No matter how much we wish to defy the King, for now we are still under his control. And he has ordered us to retrieve the egg." He shook a strand of black hair out of his eyes and mounted Thorn, securing his legs in the straps. Together they made their way down the corridor that led outside. As they stepped out under the sky, the sun splashed across Thorn's scales, turning them into a river of bright red molten flame and sending red reflections dancing across the huge stone balcony, deformed with the telltale scratch marks Thorn and Shruikan made when they took flight. The dragon arched his neck, lashed his thick tail once, then spread his blood-colored wings and leaped off the ledge, flapping downward as he did so. Exhilaration flowed from Thorn to Murtagh as the wind whistled past their ears and tugged them in different directions. Thorn tilted his wings and angled south, Murtagh's left hand resting on his sword's hilt out of habit.

Minutes later, Thorn asked, _do you have the Eldunari, in case we meet Eragon and Saphira?_

"I have two," Murtagh replied, guilt again assaulting him as he thought of the trapped dragons he carried. "Galbatorix does not permit me to carry more than that unless we are going into direct battle against Eragon and Saphira, and his spies have reassured him they are still with the Varden. He is counting on us finding the egg before Eragon can assist the woman by flying out and confronting us."

_Meralaena._

The name came unbidden to his mind, as a whisper at the edge of his consciousness. For a moment he wondered if it was Thorn who had spoken, but his dragon was occupied with flying. Murtagh tightened his grip on Zar-rock, contemplating his dreams and the woman who had stepped out of them into his world. _So that's her name, _he thought to himself, carefully shielding his mind from Thorn_. _Meralaena. __He didn't bother asking himself how he knew that was her name, he was just certain that he did. His thoughts returned to his most recent dream of her, the one that (unknown to him), they had both experienced two nights ago, of falling over a waterfall and drowning. At first, Murtagh had tried to brush his dreams off as nothing more than that - dreams. But when they persisted, when he continued to see Meralaena in his sleep, and when thinking of this unknown woman took up most of his time awake, he was forced to conclude there was much more to these vision-like phenomena's than he or anyone else realized. Then all of his speculation had come to a turning point when he saw her for the first time in the waking world, holding the dragon egg and gazing back at him with the same intensity and – dare he think it? – Affection he directed at her. Murtagh sighed and wished that he was anywhere but where he was, his heart heavy at the thought of fighting Meralaena as they winged their way towards her.

Meralaena slowed to a fast walk as she and Char drew nearer to Furnost where Glenador awaited them, her fiery red hair tied up in a bun. A cold feeling had been biting at her, and as she walked it settled down into a knot of worry, twisting and persistent. She slowed her pace even more to appear casual as she tried to push away the feeling that all was not as it should be.

_You fear what lies ahead. _It wasn't a question. Char's scales scraped against the bag as he shifted, the satchel tightly closed to protect him from prying eyes.

After a moment of analyzing her own feelings, Meralaena said, _I do not fear for us. I do not necessarily fear at all… But there's no denying that something isn't right. By all rights, danger is behind pursuing, not ahead ambushing. And yet…_

Her words faded.

_Be wary, _she told her dragon. _Anyone could be the enemy. I could probably sense someone coming, but then again, an experienced magician could hide his mind from me. I hate having to shield my thoughts… If not for the fact that we must remain hidden I could sense the intentions of everybody in Furnost. But to do so would reveal us to the enemy… As you know._

_You would think Meralaena Zaalefren would be able to sense someone walking up behind her, even with these inhibitions, _Char said sarcastically. Meralaena didn't comment on him using her last name when she hadn't mentioned it to him – She was getting used to him knowing things about her he didn't need to be told.

"Hey Char," she said, suddenly remembering a point of curiosity that she'd meant to ask him about, "I wanted to ask you, do all dragons come out of their eggs acting like adults?"

_What do you mean?_ He asked.

"Well," Meralaena said, "Eragon told me that when Saphira hatched, she was a baby in the literal sense of the word. Her mind was as young as her body. But you seem to me fully mature mentally, and you're less than a day old."

_I don't know,_ Char said thoughtfully_. I assumed that my rate of development was normal. We will have to ask Eragon and Saphira about it if and when we see them._

Meralaena nodded and fell silent. Soon they reached the city gates, which were unguarded and open.

_I wonder why security is so lax_, Char mused.

_Who knows_, Meralaena thought back as she pushed her way through the throngs of people. They passed through the gates and into Furnost unhindered, and Meralaena started making her way to the arranged meeting place with Glenaldor, the cold feeling of unease still refusing to leave her.

**What'd you think? The next Chapter's more exciting, I know I told you the action was in this chapter but I guess I lied… I'm sorry! I'm really bad at remembering which chapter has what in it. But there is some action coming up very soon. Meralaena and Murtagh's first proper conversation is coming up soon to, either two or three chapters from now. So if you want to speed things up, review review review ****Unless I get more reviews than I though I would, I'll just be publishing once a week. Thank you all for reading, and please give me your suggestions, criticism and feedback ****thanks! **


	8. Chapter 8

**Hola, peoples! I'm back with chapter eight! So I hope you enjoy, and please drop a review **

Murtagh bent low over Thorn's back as they sped toward Furnost. Renewed urgency was in their every move. Minutes ago one of Galbatorix's magician's had alerted the king via scrying to the presence of an elf in Furnost, though the magician was unable to glean any information without revealing his presence to the intruder. The King had then contacted Murtagh and sent him and Thorn after the elf - A real elf this time, a male with silver hair. Thorn's wing beats wove a constant rhythm in Murtagh's head as he reviewed the list of spells he knew, spells of binding, combat, death – All the dark magic the King had ever taught him would be needed to defeat this opponent.

The fact that a second non–human being was inside the Empire's borders against the King's wishes was enough to convince Murtagh and Galbatorix that the Varden had engineered the dragon egg being stolen, and that the elf was an ally of Meralaena's. But that mattered little to him; at that moment, Murtagh's most prominent emotion was relief. Relief that maybe, just maybe, he would not have to cross blades with Meralaena Zaalefren.

_Zaalefren? _Thorn asked, his breathing more labored than usual due to the speed of his flight. Murtagh didn't know if he imagined it, but he thought he detected alarm pulsing through Thorn from behind a strong mental barrier at the mention of the name.

_It's her last name. _Murtagh did not try to explain how he knew, nor did his dragon inquire further. He simply knew, without a doubt, just like he knew her first name and what she looked like. He also knew she was powerful. Very, very powerful; more powerful than any elf or human, whether a Rider or not, had a right to be… and that much power made her dangerous. In every vision he had of her, the power she commanded was plainly obvious to any magic user unless she concealed it purposefully.

_Thorn? _Murtagh said as a crazy idea struck him. _You don't think… _He paused, knowing how impossible it was, then forged ahead._You don't think any of the Grey Folk __survived, do you?_

Surprise radiated from Thorn, and his answer when it came was slow and deliberate. _Do you know much about the history of the Grey Folk? That may hold the answer to your question. _

Murtagh replied, _Galbatorix never taught me anything that didn't have to do with killing the Varden or Eragon. _He shifted in the saddle. When Thorn didn't reply, Murtagh gave into his curiosity and asked, _Who were the Grey Folk?_

Thorn blinked one crimson eye and replied, _The Grey Folk were the first people to arrive in Alagaesia, before Dwarves, before Elves, before humans and Urgals, werecats and Raz'ac, and even we dragons do not know from whence they came. Across the sea like the elves, perhaps, or from the earth, like the Dwarves. But the most well-known theory among the elves is that they came from the sky on the backs of great, flying dragons with teeth like razors and hides that gleamed brighter than silver. These first Dragons, they whom we call the Firstborns, are the true dragons, and it is from them that we, me and Saphira and Shrewken, first came from. All dragons are their descendants. They were white or silver, sometimes both, and if the dragon egg we have left is of that blessed race, its rider will become, in time, more powerful that Galbatorix himself. The nature of the dragon demands it. Do you remember, there was an elf, in the days of the riders, who was also called Eragon?_

"Yes," Murtagh said.

_His dragon was a Firstborn. But I digress from the topic. The Grey Folk, not the elves, are the Eldar Race and Fair Folk. Many of Grey Folk's names and reputations the elves have taken for their own, but all those were not theirs originally. The Grey Folk were powerful for many years, even longer than the Rider's reign. Their relationship with the dragons that first bore them thither seems to be very different than that of a bonded pair. There is no record of dragons having a partnership with them, other than the first alightment of the Grey Folk in Alagaesia, nor were there any parlays or treaties that we know of. The Elves have approximated the Grey Folk's rule lasted around five thousand years, but of course none now live who remember it. __Back then, _Thorn continued_, magic was not bound by the Ancient Language. You did not require words to channel the spell, you just felt the power and willed it to reshape the world. But this kind of magic was very wild and unpredictable. Many times, a magician would lose control over a spell and it would wreak havoc and chaos until it could be contained - sometimes killing hundreds in the process. Finally, the leader of the Grey Folk, a queen who's first name is unknown, summoned all her people to perform a single spell so powerful it would change the way magic itself worked. She knew it would either destroy her race or leave them severely weakened, but for the good of Alagaesia, they found a way - no one knows how - to reshape everything that made them who they were._

Thorn broke off from his tale and tilted his wings to set their course more to the south.

_And? _Murtagh asked, completely enraptured by the story. _What happened to the Grey Folk? Did they have long lives like an elf? What happened after they cast the spell? Is it possible any survived?_

_We do not know for certain what happened, _Thorn continued. _It is clear, however, that the final spell drained all of their powers, though it succeeded in making magic less dangerous and more controllable. Most survived, only to wither away afterwards, but the brave Queen died as she uttered the last word of the incantation. _

Murtagh sensed a change in Thorn's mind as he confessed, _And, little one…The Queen's last name was Zaalefren._

Murtagh gasped like he'd been doused in freezing water. Trying to reign in his shock, he exclaimed, _but that's Meralaena's last name! Are you sure?_

_Yes, Murtagh, I am sure. I didn't know how to tell you before, but… The legends that have been passed down from that time period say as much about the Queen's daughter as they do about her. More, even. A beautiful woman, but more deadly in combat than any elf or Rider. She, along with her rebellious sister, were the only two Grey Folk who did not take part in the last spell. And her name was – _is_ – Meralaena. Meralaena Zaalefren. _

**Ooh, Mera's a Grey Folk! Lots of you guessed ahead of time, but I hope I surprised at least a few people :) ****so let me know what you think, thanks so much for reading! Another chapter will be coming out next week Tuesday :)**


	9. Chapter 9

**Ok, I'm back, and I'm so sorry it's late! I'm failing biology and socials right now, and if I don't bring my grades up I'll have to do them over again... So it's been hard to find the time to write. But here is chapter nine, I hope you enjoy, and as always reviews are greatly appreciated : )**

**PS I have started another fanfiction, so I may be updating less frequently. I will try to publish a chapter roughly once every 1-2 weeks. The more reviews I get the faster I'll go : )**

From somewhere behind Meralaena, wings beat a constant rhythm into her head. Above her the bright yellow sun shone down on the world as if nothing were amiss. _Where am I? _Meralaena wondered, her thoughts hazy and slow. _How did I get here? _She waited for Char to respond, but there was nothing. For a while she just relaxed, letting her wings carry her where they would. Her mind felt sluggish, as if in a dream. _A dream… _

A sudden burst of understanding momentarily drove the haze away. _A dream! I must be inside Murtagh's head again!_ But that didn't seem quite right. After all, she was flying, and she knew Murtagh couldn't fly except for Thorn… Thorn! She glanced back at her body and was shocked by what she saw. Her wings, for they were hers, shone cherry red, and her four feet were tough and scaly, with sharp talons protruding from each foot. Yards behind her she glimpsed her – no, Thorn's – tail, meters long and thick as a tree stump, with deadly-looking spikes, each as long as Char's whole body. Meralaena twisted her neck farther and saw Murtagh sitting in a worn leather saddle. As always the cold, sick look in his eyes sent a jolt through her, but she pushed it away.

Now Meralaena knew what was happening, she realized that she didn't have complete control of Thorn's body. Even as they flew Thorn went into a spiral dive, without Meralaena commanding the movement. As they circled down towards a large town that looked familiar, she slowly felt herself receding, falling into velvety blackness. For a moment, she felt both Thorn's body and her own, and then she was scrambling to her feet from a dusty side road in Furnost.

_Meralaena? _Char said.

_I'm fine, _she replied, too used to her visions to be shaken. _Did you see what I saw?_

_Yes, I did. _His tone was guarded. After a pause, she asked curiously,

_What happened when I had the... dream_? She used the term for lack of a better word.

_You collapsed, _Char said. _One minute you were walking down the road and the next you fell and I started to see the same thing you saw, but only because we were mentally linked. If our minds had been farther apart I probably wouldn't have seen anything._

_How long did it take? _She inquired.

_I don't know, _he replied. Meralaena glanced up at the sun, which told her it was just before midday.

_We have to hurry up, _she said_. That town Murtagh and Thorn were landing in was Furnost, I'm sure of it. _She hitched the satchel up on her back and set out again towards Glenaldor, giving Char no opportunity to ask questions she didn't have answers for. She only hoped they could find Glenaldor before Murtagh found them.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

Thorn landed with a jolt, rattling Murtagh. He climbed out of the saddle without commenting on the unusually rough landing. They were just outside Furnost, hidden behind a huge dune to prevent anyone seeing them till they made their move against the elf. Murtagh glanced up at the sun – midday.

_Hopefully we can get out of here before sunset, _he said to Thorn. The dragon didn't reply. Murtagh made sure that the dragons Eldunari, the source of most of his power, were safe in Thorn's saddle before setting out towards the town on foot.

Wherever they went people fled. _They fear our powers, _Murtagh said to Thorn as a street full of men, women and children quickly emptied at the sight of the blood red beast and his Rider.

_No, _his dragon replied_. They fear our deeds. They fear what we have done before and what we might yet do. What they fail to understand is that Galbatorix orders it all._

_Aye, _Murtagh replied with a bitter edge to his voice._ He has turned us into the monsters the people fear instead of himself. We are blamed for atrocities and vile deeds while the real beast sits on his throne and watches._

Thorn rumbled in agreement, and they continued on in silence.

Ten minutes later they stood before an abandoned farmer's field.

_This is the place, _Murtah said.

_How can you tell? _Thorn asked.

_There are traces of Magic here, _he replied. _I can tell that_ _someone cast a powerful spell here not long ago, and whoever it was is still here. Since we can't see anything, I'd guess the spell was a concealment charm. The counter spell to that is quite complicated but-_

He broke off as the air before them began to shimmer. Thorn cast him a questioning glance, but Murtagh didn't know what was going on any more than his dragon. He gripped his sword's pommel as the clear space in front of them rippled like a see-through curtain, as if the air was water and a stone had been dropped into it.

Suddenly, with a loud crackling sound, the wavering wall of air rent apart like a curtain opening and dissolved, and a man who looked to be about twenty-five stepped out from the void. A few meters to the left Murtagh could see a small house had appeared from behind the same magical barrier. The man's face was slanted, and his deep purple eyes were angled, like a cat's. His silver hair shone burnished white in the bright sunshine, giving him an ethereal effect. And the elf, for they were certain this was the elf, was holding a drawn sword in one hand and a black wand in the other. The light of battle shone in his eyes, and Glenaldor leapt forward, shouting a fierce battle cry as he came at the red ride and his dragon with the fury of an avalanche.

Thorn jumped in front of Murtagh before Glenaldor could get at him, giving the startled Rider time to draw his own sword. The dragon blasted a raging inferno of molten flame at the elf, but he easily rolled under it; it hit the old hut instead, which caught fire immediately thanks to the straw roof and old, dry wood. Glenaldor darted forward again, almost faster than Murtagh could block the blow that followed. Murtagh slashed out in return with a powerful crosscut but the elf brought his sword up and met his blade with a shower of sparks. Murtagh pulled back and stabbed out with the speed of a striking rattlesnake, but again the silver-haired elf blocked him. Glenaldor, being many times stronger and faster than a human, darted past Murtagh's guard and, instead of attempting to kill him with a single sword blow, landed a punch that sent the young human flying through the air, stunned. Thorn roared and lunged, jagged maw gaping and a mad light in his crimson eyes as he snapped at Glenaldor.

"Letta!"The elf barked, pointing his wand at the enraged beast. Thorn stopped short inches from the elf, held back by a solid wall of magic. He snarled and swung his mighty tail at the barrier, sending a shudder through Glenaldor as he struggled to maintain the spell against Thorn's fury; obviously he hadn't fought a dragon before. Thorn swung again – and again. Glenaldor's face paled with the strain of holding him in place.

Unnoticed, Murtagh rolled onto his side from where he had fallen and struggled to keep a hold on consciousness. Thorn continued to rain blows down on the elf's barrier, which, consequently, left Glenaldor's back to Murtagh. He clambered to his feet. Through a red haze that was quickly retreating, he knew he hated the idea of stabbing someone in the back when they weren't looking – _But we have to kill him, _Murtagh realized, his mind rapidly clearing. _Galbatorix ordered it. If I try not to one of the King's binding spells will just force me to anyway. _Testing his theory, Murtagh took a step in the opposite direction, away from Thorn and the elf, and before he completed the motion an iron clamp seemed to descend on him, forcing him to turn around, pick up his sword and advance towards the still battling dragon and elf. Only when the will to fight returned to Murtagh did the spell release him. He was less than two yards away now, the elf's back still turned as Thorn concentrated on keeping him occupied. Murtagh took a deep breath and tightened his hold on his sword, hating himself for what he was about to do. Trusting his magically enhances reflexes, Murtagh leaped the remaining two yards and aimed a slash at the elf's turned back, fully expecting it to wound or kill the elf. What Murtagh hadn't counted on was the elf's own superhuman reflexes; he wasn't the only one with abnormal physical abilities. Glenaldor spun around just before the blow landed and jumped back – towards Thorn – to avoid it, the barrier between him and Thorn failing with his concentration.

Too late he realized his mistake. It was one thing to leave a nearly unconscious Murtagh behind him when he could defend himself – it was quite another to turn his back on Thorn. A bloodcurdling roar of triumph that was almost a scream sounded from behind Glenaldor. He whirled around just in time to see Thorn's powerful tail sweeping towards him, the longest razor-sharp spike pointed right at his heart.

A spell formed on Glenaldor's lips, but there wasn't enough time. Thorn's tree trunk of a tail struck the elf across the chest, his spikes rending a bloody gash along his torso, breaking ribs as it went. He tried to scream from the unbelievable pain but there was no air in his torn lungs. The force of the blow knocked Glenaldor off his feet and carried him over the tiny hut as his vision blinked out, a line of splattered blood following.

Thorn roared again, and Murtagh felt the ground tremble slightly. The dragon flared his wings and reared back on his hind legs, so that he looked like a carved figure someone might find in a wood worker's shop. Except no one could depict the mad gleaming light still smoldering in Thorn's eyes, nor the savage anger radiating across their mental link, carved from a mere piece of wood. Murtagh drew an unsteady breath and stumbled to Thorn.

Thorn thundered back onto all fours and, reluctantly it seemed to Murtagh, turned away from the bloody scene before them. Murtagh sheathed his sword and climbed into the saddle.

_We did it,_ Murtagh said. Thorn didn't respond.

By unspoken consent the red dragon turned and crossed the field in a single bound, landing beside the tiny house. They both knew it would not be wise to leave the hut standing. The flames still ate away hungrily at the dry wood, licking at the fuel and devouring anything it touched. Thorn thrust his muzzle into the flaming mass and got a grip on one of the four supporting beams. He easily wrenched it out and threw it to the side. The dragon repeated this procedure till the house was no more than a heap of burning rubble that looked a lot like a huge bonfire. Finishing his work he pulled a large wooden bench from the pile and with a single bite broke it in two, then blasted the pile of wood with fire once more for good measure. The elf was lying still on the edge of the flaming structure, obviously dead.

Still not speaking, Thorn took flight in a rush and set their course back towards Uru'baen.

**Waaahh, Glenaldor's dead : ( I almost rewrite this chapter and changed that, but for some morbid reason I kept it this way… So please review, you guys make my day/week when I get feedback : ) And to all my reviewers so far, thank you guys so much for your support! Love you all and see you next chapter! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Due to my idiotic desire to fail socials, I have decided to update early. Thank you to my reviewer and I hope you enjoy : )**

Meralaena hurried down the road. The meeting place with Glenaldor was just around the bend. The cold feeling assailed her again but she pushed it away. Excitement twisted around in her stomach, but she could not fathom why she was so eager to see the elf again.

_I'm going to be too big for this bag soon, _Char said, pulling her out of her reverie. _I barely fit, and the seams are stretched. _

_I don't know how you can spend a thousand years in your egg without complaining and then make an unstoppable fuss about a leather bag, _Meralaena replied, only half annoyed. _And what do you mean, the seams are stretched? You fit into that bag easily a few days ago! I'm sure we'll be able to find– _

She rounded the last bend hiding the little house from view. Her eyes grew huge as she stared in horror at the scene before her. Then she set off in a dead run, caution forgotten.

The hut had been blasted apart. Scraps of wood littered the ground around it, as if flung there by a massive explosion. There were gouges in the burnt wood and the ground nearby that Meralaena couldn't account for; one wooden bench as thick as her waist had been torn in two, by what she didn't know. The straw roof had caught fire, and from that the rest of the building. The ground around it for meters was scorched and blackened, almost as if – As if… then it hit her. Only a dragon could do this. Now she saw that the house had not been blown apart; it had been _ripped _apart. Thorn could easily have set fire to the puny hut with one fiery breath. And the bench – one bite from his jaws would be more than enough to break it. The gouges in the earth were the marks a dragon made when it took flight. But what about Glenaldor?

There was no more time to think. Meralaena pushed her way past a smoldering pile of rubble and circled around the tiny house. She saw a line of fresh blood in the dirt and followed it around the still burning hut.

"Glenaldor? Are you here? Glenaldor!" Dreading what she might find she walked around the building.

Halfway around she found Glenaldor. He had fallen in the middle of the remains of a stone windmill; the floor was cold as she sank to her knees beside him. He was lying on his back in the middle of a crimson pool holding his sword in a death grip, his silver hair stained red from blood seeping from a deep cut above his left temple, but the cut was not the wound she was worried about.

Meralaena had seen many gruesome wounds in her lifetime, but the one that had caused Glenaldor's death made even her wince. It was a single, mangled gash across the elf's chest, starting on his right side above his stomach and running across to end on his left. She could see it least four broken ribs on each side, while there were probably more. The broken ends protruding grotesquely from his bloody body like white, serrated fingers. She couldn't tell for sure, but judging by the depth of the wound she guessed his lungs were ripped, or at least punctured, which would have led to death even if the cut hadn't been so serious. The blood flow had almost stopped, if only because there was no more blood left to bleed. Inflicted by claw or by one of Thorn's tail spikes she couldn't tell, but she was certain it wasn't a tooth or sword wound. Meralaena felt a single tear fall, knowing without checking that Glenaldor wasn't – couldn't be – alive after suffering an injury like that. Blood soaked through her pants and lower cloak when she shifted closer to him, but she didn't notice. She felt Char squirm in the satchel, and she numbly reached behind her and undid the bag. He scrambled out and spilled onto the floor, landing ungracefully on his head and getting a nose full of red liquid in the process. Char spluttered in disgust as seemed about to say something till he caught sight of Glenaldor. His words died in his throat.

Knowing what she would find but needing to check anyway, Meralaena reached over and gently felt for a pulse. As expected she found nothing, and the skin of his throat was cold. A single sob rose before Meralaewna swallowed it back and gently closed Glenaldor's eyes.

"So long, my friend," she whispered in the Ancient Language.

Half an hour later Meralaena hurried through a crowded street, pushing past people and ignoring their indignant complaints. Her lower cloak and pants were soaked with blood from kneeling next to Glenaldor, but thankfully the street was too filled with hustle and bustle for anyone to notice. Meralaena tensed as a call from behind her drew her attention away from getting out as soon as possible.

"You there! Halt!" Meralaena's already shaken stride faltered momentarily, apprehension crawling up her spine. She glanced behind her and saw three guards bearing Galbatorix's standard marching down the well-worn road towards her, shoving people out of the way and scowling.

_Meralaena? _Char muttered.

_Soldiers, _she replied tersely. _I could kill them, but not without drawing the attention of every man, woman and child in Furnost. Maybe I can talk my way out of this. If not I'll have to make a run for it, draw them somewhere away from all these people, and then kill them anyway. They must not know who I am; they wouldn't be calling to me in the middle of an open street if they did._

She had kept walking as she spoke, quickening her pace, and she reached up and loosened her cloak in preparation for a fight. Despite what she told Char her decision was made as to how to take care of the soldiers; she had no intention of talking her way out. These soldiers were enemies, and they had seen her; that alone meant that unless a very good reason was provided, she would have to kill them. Behind her she heard angry protests coming from the soldier's direction, she cast another look back and saw that the guards had drawn their swords and were slashing at anyone who got in there way. Apparently they wanted to catch up more than she realized.

Meralaena came to the end of the street, the guards not far behind. It branched three ways. Two of the roads were wide with houses on them, and the third was a narrow, twisty alley that ran between the other two, the backs of the houses facing it. She immediately made strait for the alley. Hopefully, although she knew better, the soldiers wouldn't bother pursuing her into the deserted back street. If they did, at least no one else would be around to see the ending result.

Just as she slipped into the alley, the three men spilled out of the crowded street, armor and shields clanking as they scrambled to their feet. One of the soldiers, a man of about thirty, glimpsed her entering the alley.

"That way!" he yelled. "She went that way!"

A tide of anger surged in Meralaena, surprising both her and Char with its strength. Anger that these men would dare to hunt her. Anger at how _slowly _things were moving. Anger because these people served the man who had ordered Glenaldor's death. And – though she would not admit it – Anger because it was these men's master who had ordered her sister's death all those months ago on the Burning Plains.

_Enough! _Meralaena almost snarled at the men out loud. _Enough running! If you wish to find me, then find me you will. I will not be hunted and chased by these puny little humans like some frightened rabbit. Enough! _

Anger burning hot, Meralaena turned and went into a dead sprint, her inhuman speed carrying her almost as fast as a flying dragon. She no longer cared if she was seen. Seconds later she came to a dead end, but that mattered little. She took Char from her back and set him on the ground, opening the bag. She removed her pack and let it fall to the ground next to the white dragon.

_Wait here._

_Where are you going? _He asked. The cold look in her eyes unnerved him.

_Just wait here! _She snapped, already moving back the way they had come. She knew she had been unfair, but her anger, still white-hot, drove her on.

Meralaena ran again, back the way she had come. She rounded the last bend and came apon the three men, still too foolish to turn back and save their own lives.

Her speed was so great that she only had time to observe their surprised faces and hear them exclaim in shock before she barreled into the leader, knocking him off his feet. She was on him in a flash. Somehow without her noticing her favorite dagger had made its way to her hand; it rose and fell, leaving the man an unmoving heap at her feet. The second man yanked his blade out if its sheath, but it was futile – from five yards away, Meralaena pounced like a cat on a mouse, driving her dagger, still dripping red, into his body before he had a chance to cry out.

All this happened in a matter of seconds; by the time the two men were dead, the third man had only just began to run. With a wordless, inhuman snarl Meralaena leapt after him, bringing him down and rolling them both over twice with the momentum. In a move faster than his human eyes could follow she reached down and squeezed his throat once; it collapsed like a rotten piece of wood.

Breathless, still blind with rage, she untangled herself and surveyed the scene before her. Slowly her breathing returned to normal. Meralaena reached up and yanked out her hair band, letting her auburn hair ripple over her shoulders and swirl around her face. It emphasized her wild, untamed look.

As the white-hot inferno of rage began to subside, she blinked away the dust that was still settling from the fight – no, the _slaughter _– she had initiated. Already regret was forming a knot in her stomach, but she pushed it aside, spun around and stalked down the alley at human speed back to Char.

**Ooh, Mera got mad :P if it's not obvious, I wrote this chapter when I was irritated. Hope you enjoyed ****: ) Please review! And speaking of reviews, do you know how many I got for my last chapter? One. **_**One**_** review! So if you're one of those people who's been reading this story but hasn't reveiwed it yet, now would be a great time : ) And thanks to my one reviewer. See you soon, probably next week Saturday : ) **


	11. Chapter 11

**Hello peoples of fanfiction! Here is chapter eleven! Thank you so much to Retrained Freedom, ShatterTheHeavens and Disk 9 for your reviews of last chapter. I really value your feedback : ) and thank you, RF, I will try not to fail socials :P so here it is, please review and I hope you enjoy : ) **

_I don't want to talk, _Meralaena growled at Char when she got back.

_What happened to the soldiers back there? _He demanded, ignoring her tone. _I smell blood and anger. Meralaena, what have you done? _

Char expected her to ignore the question, or even snap back at him, but he never expected her to do what she did. Meralaena _yelled_, something he hadn't known she was capable of.

"I said I don't want to talk about it!"

_Maybe you need to anyway, _Char replied, not reacting to her frayed temper. He knew something had happened.

"I – I don't –" She faltered, her anger giving way to a well of regret. She took a few deep breaths and sat down hard, leaning against the stone wall behind them. A few long moments later she spoke. Char was puzzled and a little bit frightened by her tone – it was cold somehow, lifeless. Like she'd fought a loosing battle with no hope of wining.

"Sometimes…" She paused, and then forged ahead again. "Sometimes I have a problem with my temper. All the Grey Folk do, or at least they did. It's like… It's comparable to a shark that scents blood, or a predator that senses weakness. When I loose control I can't stop – It's a frenzy. I can't control or stop it once it gets started. I feel the rage and then…" Char waited, and when Meralaena didn't continue, he prodded,

_And then? _

"Then, wherever I am, if there's an enemy nearby, they die. Always. It's very hard when that happens. The craving to kill in anger, it's instinct. It's what all Gray Folk feel in battle and in danger, and it can be very helpful when it strikes at the right moment. But if, like now, it might have been better to avoid those soldiers… I have tried to override the urge to destroy my enemies and learn to control it, but when it catches me unawares, like with those men, I don't realize it's happening till it's over." She fingered the hilt of her dagger, still in her hands, as she confessed to Char what not even Nasuada and Eragon knew. Of all the people she could have – or maybe should have – told, her sister was the only one who had known, simply because her sister had shared in it.

_Thank you for telling me, Meralaena, _Char said sincerely and almost formally. _I, being a dragon, can understand… The fierce joy of combat, the rush, the rage, all these feeling are traits of both dragons and Gray Folk. Do not despise what you are, _he said gently. _Most paired Riders and Dragons balance each other out; the rider being gentler and more subdued while the dragon is fierce. We are different in that respect, I think… We are exactly what Alageasia needs in times like these, both Rider and dragon sharing the dangerous instincts and characteristics of a Firstborn Dragon._

"A Firstborn? What does that mean?" Meralaena interrupted.

_Firstborn? It means that I am one of the very first dragons that ever landed in Alagaesia. The dragons the Riders were paired with were only a shadow of their ancestors. Most of the Firstborn produced colored offspring, like Saphira, Thorn and Shrewken, but a very few produced dragons like themselves – pure white, sometimes with silver._

Meralaena was silent for a while, contemplating. After a minute, she asked, "What is the difference between a Firstborn dragon like you and a normal one? Besides coloring, I mean."

_The differences we know of are mostly subtle and not worth noting… except one rather large one. Of all the variations among dragonkind, only the Firstborn can control the magic that is only briefly available to our colored kin. You see, sometimes the ability to use magic becomes available to a dragon, and when it does, that dragon's strength, both physical and otherwise, is unmatched. Of all the dragons alive in Alagaesia, I am the only one with the ability to control and use this gift. That makes us a massive threat to Galbatorix… Perhaps even more than Eragon and Saphira, because, gifted and powerful though they are, Eragon is human, and Saphira is not a Firstborn. And as I am a Firstborn, that makes me the most powerful dragon in existence. And you as well, Rider, are not ordinary – even among your own people, were they still alive._

Meralaena sat transfixed by this new information – it was all so much to absorb. Char a Firstborn… And he was right about her not being ordinary.

"But… Why have I never heard about the Firstborns before?" Meralaena asked. "I studied dragon and elven history in Du Weldenvarden, and never once was there anything like this mentioned."

Char hummed deep in his throat. _The records of the Firstborn Dragons have faded from livable memory. There are no written accounts, and even the elves are not old enough to recall the days before the riders. There are perhaps three or four elves that may remember something about us, but that is all. It is not common knowledge, even among the immortals. _

Silence fell for a moment as the Meralaena came to grips with the new information.

_Um… Meralaena? _Char said, unusually hesitant.

_Yes, Char? _Meralaena responded.

_I was just thinking… about Glenaldor. _

"Ah," Meralaena said in understanding. "Yes, I thought that might have been bothering you."

_Is it… I mean to say, do you always react so calmly when a friend dies?_ Meralaena didn't respond right away as she worked out how to answer.

"It's… hard to say," she eventually answered. "Glenaldor's death was unexpected, and to loose a friend that way is never easy. As to why I didn't react in the way you expected…" her voice faded, and a fire entered her eyes. "I have lost so many people already. Loosing one more just adds to the body count of my dead friends."

Char whimpered uneasily, unable to sense clearly the emotion radiating from his rider.

"This is your first experience with death," Meralaena said. "It makes sense that you'd be a bit unsettled. And as well you should be; the day you do not grieve for a dead friend is the day you loose who you are."

_I just… I have always known about death, _Char said. _But to see it first hand was quite unpleasant. _

A cat yowled nearby, breaking into Char's words, and Meralaena started violently. "I'm an idiot!" She spat furiously to herself as she clambered to her feet. "Here we are in enemy territory, the two most wanted beings in Alageasia, being hunted by the king, and I just sit down for a nice story telling!" Meralaena continued to throw verbal abuse at herself as she quickly cleaned her blade, still wet from killing the soldiers, and grabbed her pack and Char's bag. She held it open for him, but he hesitated.

_I don't like riding in that bag, _He growled, eyeing it with intense distaste. _It's dark and cramped… Do you think the people of Furnost know what happened to Glenador? That Thorn and Murtagh, and later us, were there? _

"Probably, but we don't know."

_Well, I vote for showing ourselves to them and then escaping._

"Are you mad? We'd have half the king's army on us in a day, and all his spellweavers! Not to mention Thorn and Murtagh. It would be like handing ourselves in!"

_Think about it, _Char said, undeterred. _Yes, showing ourselves would draw attention, but soon I'll be able to fly and keep up with you running, that should put us ahead of them. And you can contact Nasuada and request that she send help, maybe even Eragon and Saphira. It would give these people hope._

Meralaena was silent, thinking. "It's suicide," she said at last. Another pause, then: "But I like it. After all," she said with a fierce grin, "Since we're going to spend eternity together, we might as well start taking chances now!" Char let out what was supposed to be a satisfied roar but was really more of a squeak. Meralaena smiled wider.

"I don't think we should contact Nasuada though," she said.

_Why not?_ Char asked.

"Galbatorix is already on the hunt for us. If we added Eragon and Saphira to the mix, he'd go crazy trying to catch all four of us. Besides, I think we can make it back to the Varden without assistance."

_Alright, _Char gave in. But _if things get worse, we'll have to get help._

"Agreed," Meralaena said_. _"Let's show ourselves."

**Okay, so here it is. What did you think? Please review, I will give you cookies if you review *holds out cookie plate* Thanks so much for reading : ) see you next week!**


	12. Chapter 12

**Hello everybody! So this chapter is the chase scene : ) I also have an idea I want your opinions on, more on that at the end of this chappy. So please enjoy, I love reviews, and I still have some cookies left over from last time… first come, first serve : ) here is chapter eleven!**

Miles above ground, Murtagh gasped as a sharp tendril of thought invaded his mind.

_The elf is dead, I presume, _Galbatorix said. Murtagh shuddered at his touch and replied,

_Yes, he is dead. _There was a pause, and Murtagh hoped the king would go, but he had more instructions.

_I need you to turn around and fly back to Furnost. _

Thorn, listening in, groaned at the thought of retracing the many wingbeats back to Furnost but held his tongue.

Galbatorix continued, _My spellweavers report that the female-elf-who-isn't-an-elf is still there. I want her found and the egg returned!_

Hating himself, Murtagh said, _It will be done. Should we kill her or capture her?_

_Capture her if you can, kill her if you can't but _do not _allow her to escape. And find out more about her._

Abruptly the presence vanished, leaving Murtagh breathless. Without a word Thorn tiredly did a circle and started heading back the way they had come.

**OoOoOoOo**

Meralaena peeked out from the alley at the mass of people and livestock that clogged the road, only yards away from her hiding place. Char's sharp claws dug into her shoulder. She glanced up at their escape route: the houses were all placed closely together, too far for a human to jump from roof to roof, but she shouldn't have a problem with it.

The plan was simple enough; She and Char would let the people see them, then leap onto the roof and proceed in this manner to the outskirts, leaving as many people as possible as witnesses. After all, if they were going to make the bold stroke of showing themselves, they might as well do it well. Char was sure that he would be able to fly within the next day or so, which would enable them to move fast enough to evade Murtagh and Thorn.

_Murtagh_.

The name generated a sudden flood of confused and powerful emotions in Meralaena.

Her head told her he was the enemy, to be avoided and fought if need be. He was an opposing Rider, and the strongest thing standing between the resistance and the dark king. He had killed, murdered, maimed and probably tortured many innocent people.

And yet the emotions Meralaena stood in frozen combat with were nothing like those she should have for an enemy. Her head told her one thing, but her heart... Her heart even didn't know what to feel.

"It's not his fault," she muttered. "If only he had a choice…" She tried to shove away her unruly feelings, but a flood of memories overwhelmed her; she saw his face when they met at Uru'baen, she remembered her dream, his hand in hers… Then felt again the unbreakable trust she had had for him till she discovered who he was

With effort she wrenched herself away from that train of thought and back to the present.

Char cast her a questioning glance, which she ignored. "Time to go," Meralaena said quietly. "Whatever happens, we mustn't get separated". Char tensed eagerly. Meralaena took a deep breath and stepped out into the street. For a moment, no one noticed that a dragon and a non-human woman had materialized in front of them. Then someone shrieked, hurting Meralaena's sensitive eyes. Soon after every eye in the street was fixed on her and Char, with a wide space clearing in front of them, people shoving each other to get a safe distance away. Meralaena flashed a brief grin that was mostly teeth, turned, and leapt the distance onto the roof of the nearest building. She landed lightly, balanced like a cat. Char's claws were scraping raw furrows in her shoulder, but she ignored the pain and started running at human speed down the roof, jumping to the next when she came to it. Below her people were yelling with fright and excitement, some pushing to get away, some standing with their mouths hanging open, and the brave few who had shaken off the shock and were running alongside her at ground level.

_Well we can't have that, _Char said, sounding perfectly relaxed. Meralaena sped up to a speed no human could keep up to, but slow enough to allow all the people in the streets they came to a look.

Eventually they came close to the edge of the town. Guards and townspeople were following them but they couldn't keep up with the speed Meralaena was traveling at. Char was bouncing up and down on her shoulder, making small but painful scratches on it.

"We're almost there Char," Meralaena muttered. Char puffed out a cloud of smoke and gave a little squeak-roar into her ear. Meralaena smiled and continued to forge ahead, jumping to the next roof.

A mighty roar erupted behind them and they both looked back. There, in the distance but quickly gaining, was a huge red dragon.

_Murtagh,_ Meralaena thought with brief anxiety and – ridiculously – a surge of excitement. Char shuddered on her shoulder and dug his claws in deeper. Meralaena winced but kept watching Thorn and Murtagh as they got closer and closer.

Meralaena was so distracted that she didn't see that the roof she was on ended and she had to jump. Meralaena and Char tumbled over the edge and landed roughly on her side, knocking Char off her shoulder. She rolled and sprang to her feet, cursing her unusual clumsiness.

The townspeople and a few soldiers were getting closer, and she didn't have time to jump back onto the roof. So Meralaena scooped Char up and ran at super-human speed into an ally.

**OoOoOoOoOo**

"There she is!" Murtagh yelled to Thorn through the wind, his black hair stinging his face from their speed.

Suddenly Meralaena disappeared from the rooftops. Murtagh frowned and struggled to see between the houses.

_She fell through the gaps between the houses. We can catch her when she pops out on the other side of the town,_ Thorn said, beating his wings faster. Murtagh mentally nodded and let Thorn do what he needed.

A blur flew out of the houses and sped for the open gate.

_She's definitely not an elf,_ Murtagh muttered to himself. She was fast, but not fast enough to get away from Thorn.

Thorn flew faster, straining harder. They were gaining on her, but not fast enough. Murtagh noticed that she seemed to be carrying something that was slowing her down, but there was no time to think about that. With a final, exhausted surge of energy Thorn managed a final burst of speed.

They flew past Meralaena and circled back, aiming to land in front of her.

Murtagh unsheathed his sword and jumped off Thorn as he landed, stopping Meralaena dead in her tracks. She bared her teeth in defiance and pulled out a hand-and-a-half broadsword from under her cloak – but it was what she carried that held his attention.

In her arms was a small silver-white dragon, watching Murtagh with fiery eyes. A sense of finality descended on red dragon and rider as three words crossed their minds.

_It has hatched. _

**And there is the chase scene. Next chapter is Meralaena and Murtagh's first conversation : ) so psyched! But I have a question for you guys. A friend of mine gave me the idea of killing Mera off at the end of the story, and I thought I should get your opinions… should I do it? I don't really want to, but it would definitely make everything more intense... And I can't help noticing, all the other fanfics I've read on here end with the main character ending happily. So I thought… what if mine doesn't? What do you think? Of course I'm not going to tell you what I actually decide, just to keep things interesting, but I want to know what your opinions are. Reviews, advice and feedback are all greatly appreciated : ) let me know what you think! Thanks a ton for reading : ) **


	13. Chapter 13

**Hey guys, I'm so sorry for the late update, school has been keeping me extremely busy. Thanks to my reviewers from last chapter; Restrained Freedom, ShatterTheHeavens, Disk9 and last but not least, my first-time reviewer AyameRose. You guys are awesome! **

Meralaena yelled a string of curses in her head as she stared at Thorn and his rider. Char growled and did his best to look menacing for his size. Thorn growled back and Char shuddered.

_Murtagh_, Meralaena thought. The two riders stared at each other, each remembering the dreams they had had together.

Murtagh found himself dragged from his shock at seeing the dragon hatchling and assaulted with questions. What did the dreams mean? Were they the future? Were he and Meralaena meant to fight together against Galbatorix? Or, more specifically, were they meant to be together at all?

Pushing aside the flood of confusing questions, Murtagh stepped forward with his sword raised.

"If you give me the hatchling I won't give you up to Galbatorix," he said in a confident voice.

Char snarled and sank deeper into Meralaena's arms. Meralaena patted his belly and tried to think of a plan to get away that didn't involve anyone dying.

"And if I don't give you the hatchling? What then? Are you going to kill me, rider?" she stalled, letting him think she was afraid. Letting him think he had a chance of killing her.

A shocked expression crossed his face but was quickly replaced with a grim frown. "If you don't give me the hatchling I will be forced to do anything possible to get it back."

Meralaena couldn't help but notice that there was a slight quiver in his voice. She could sense his unease and debated whether to use it against him or not. She decided she'd have to; the only other option was a battle, and with Murtagh's magical abilities plus her own, as well as Char's magic and Thorn's strength, she didn't want to know how a fight between the four of them would turn out.

"You don't want to try to hurt me, Murtagh. We're meant to be together. To fight against the Black Tyrant," Meralaena said calmly. Murtagh's sword lowered a little. Meralaena took a few steps closer and stared at Murtagh's softening face.

Thorn growled softly, just a rumble in his chest. Meralaena sheathed her sword and he quieted, though she could still feel red pinpricks on her face where his eyes followed her.

The atmosphere of the situation had changed dramatically; a few moments ago, it had been one of tension, with a battle threatening. Now, Meralaena reflected, it was much more peaceful. She knew she should feel threatened, yet she couldn't summon the appropriate emotions, and judging by the look in Murtagh's eyes, he was having much the same difficulty.

"Just let me go," she continued. "You don't even have to tell Galbatorix. Don't let him push you around like a dog. Why don't you and Thorn come with us?"

Murtagh's calm demeanor disappeared and was instantly replaced with a look of anger and pain.

"I am not Galbatorix's dog. You don't know what it's like, Meralaena. You have no idea what we've been through. Even if I tried to leave, the oaths that I have spoken keep Thorn and I in his grip. There's nothing you or anybody else can do," he said. He was angry, but also strangely calmly. "I thought Eragon told you that."

Meralaena met his gaze and stepped right up to him, Thorn staring at her suspiciously and Char growling like a little terrier.

"I know what you've been through," she said, deliberately allowing her voice to take on an alluring, almost hypnotic quality. "I've seen it. I've been inside your head…"

She ignored his half-formed question.

"Those dreams we've been having – and don't tell me you haven't been having them too! – Well… Some of them aren't dreams."

Murtagh's sword had fallen to his side by now and he gazed at her, trance-like, as she continued in the same mesmerizing, singsong voice.

"There have been times, Murtagh, where those dreams have become more like… Visions. Waking dreams. And some of them," she continued in her most mysterious voice, "Have let me into your mind."

"That's impossible," Murtagh said.

"That's what I though," Meralaena agreed. "Till it happened."

"Well," Murtagh said, "Prove it then. If you've been inside my head, then what did you see?"

Meralaena paused. "I saw Galbatorix hurting you after I got away with the egg. I felt what you felt, saw what you saw…" Meralaena suppressed a shudder at the memory. "It was awful. I felt your despair as you left, fearing that you would spend the rest of your life as his slave."

Murtagh whitened.

_She knows my deepest fears,_ he thought to Thorn.

_Then it would be a good indication that she is telling the truth,_ his dragon replied. Murtagh withdrew from Thorn and stayed silent for moment, processing the information.

Meralaena also stood quietly. She really didn't want to hurt him, but if he tried to take Char... If he tried to take Char she would have no other choice.

Meralaena was very close to him. She could feel his body heat. With that realization her logic failed her, and for the first time she dared to acknowledge her feelings for Murtagh, if only to herself.

_I love you!_ Her thoughts shrieked, with such force that Char toppled out of her arms in shock. _I love you_, she thought again more calmly_. I have since I first saw you in Uru'baen, since the first time I dreamed you._

_Too bad Murtagh can't hear you, _Char said acidly as he picked himself up from the ground and shook himself off, choosing to stay on the ground instead of re-assuming his precarious perch in her arms.

_Well I can't just __**tell**__ him_, Meralaena snapped without looking away from Murtagh. It was strange, confessing her feelings about a man while staring right at him – and him unable to hear.

Meralaena gathered her frazzled emotions before speaking again, this time aloud.

"I must go," she said with a mixture of trepidation and finality. "Whether or not you would allow it."

"Then this is where we stand," Murtagh said sadly. Meralaena saw him gather himself before saying in a rush, "I cannot do what my heart would have me do, but I must confess that I -"

_He's going to say it!_ She thought when he broke off. It seemed for a moment as Murtagh hesitated that he would say the three words Meralaena wanted to hear most – but then she felt him draw back, both emotionally and physically.

Her instincts cried out in denial as he moved away, his grip on Zar-rock tightening.

"I can't," he said. Meralaena flinched at what the words meant – and the agony of conflict behind them.

She nodded, accepting.

For the moment.

"Well then," she said softly, "I'm sorry for this."

"Sorry for wha –"

"Malthinae!" Meralaena snarled. Murtagh gasped as invisible iron clamps descended on him. His legs snapped together and his arms were pinned to his sides. He tried to move but couldn't.

Thorn roared in anger and tried to spew fire, only to realize that he was also caught in her spell. He tried to thrash around – and succeeded in doing nothing.

Meralaena gazed at them for a moment. Unwillingly her eyes locked with Murtagh's, not wanting to see the surprise and hurt there.

"I really am sorry," she said quietly. "I wish things could have been different. I wish you could come with me. Together we could have found a way to free you." Her hand found his cheek, and she gently brushed aside his black hair, staring into his dark eyes. "If only it could have been us, in another time and in another place."

After a moment she scooped Char up again and with one last, longing glance at Murtagh, she ran.

Soon Thorn and his rider were out of sight, but Meralaena maintained the spell holding them in place. The amount of energy it drained from her was enormous – more than enough to kill an ordinary rider – but she held on to it as she put more distance between them.

_There was nothing else you could have done, _Char said comfortingly.

_I know,_ Meralaena whispered. _I know… _Char snuggled closer into her as she sped along, making sure to hold the binding spell in place for as long as possible.

_I'm sorry…_

**And there it is. Feedback? Ideas? Comments? Suggestions? You know I love your reviews, so please tell me what you thought : ) once again Thank You to all my reviewers from last chapter, you're amazing. Thanks for reading and I'll see you next week Saturday! **


	14. Chapter 14

**Hello everyone! So this chapter is kinda short, sorry about that. Thanks to everyone who reveiwed, and to you guys who alerted/favourited even if you didn't review, you guys make my day. Here is chapter fourteen :) **

Right after Meralaena sped away, Murtagh spoke the counterspell as best he could through clamped teeth.

"Brakka du vanyali sem huildar Thorn un eka!"

Reduce the magic that holds Thorn and me!

He threw all his energy into it, fully expecting the bonds to break.

They did not.

By unspoken consent Thorn added his strength to Murtagh's.

When seconds passed ands neither of them felt even a small weakening in the spell, Murtagh started drawing power from the Eldunari and channeling it into the flow of magic.

More seconds passed. Then a minute. Then two. Three.

When five minutes had passed and Murtagh, Thorn and the two dragon hearts were completely drained, he released the counterspell.

"That's not possible," Murtagh said, gasping for air. "Even Eragon with… twelve elves behind him had trouble… matching us… with two… Eldunari. Blast that woman!"

_If she is who we think she is,_ Thorn said wearily, _then anything is possible when she is around. But, like everyone else, her spells with weaken with distance. She will eventually be forced to release us. _

"Then we have nothing to do but wait," Murtagh surmised.

_So it would seem,_ his dragon agreed.

A few moments of silent waiting later the bonds loosened, then fell away. Murtagh heaved against the remaining resistance holding him in place and felt it snap.

He bounded up Thorn's leg and strapped himself into the saddle. Then they were in the air, flying after Meralaena.

_We'll never find her,_ Thorn said. _She could be anywhere by now. _

"I know," Murtagh said, frustrated. "I know, but if we don't try then Galbatorix -"

Murtagh broke off and squeezed his eyes shut as a powerful force invaded his mind, effectively shattering his steel barriers.

_How goes your hunt?_ Galbatorix asked coldly. Murtagh thought of trying to lie but immediately dismissed the idea. Galbatorix would get it out of him later anyway.

"We found her," Murtagh replied, dreading the next question.

_And?_ Galbatorix demanded.

"And… She got away."

He flinched as a wordless scream of rage filled his mind. He braced himself for the pain that always followed the King's anger, but nothing came.

_There is more,_ Galbatorix hissed. _I see it in your mind, though you try to conceal it. The egg… What has happened to the egg? _

"The egg…" Murtagh hesitated, but quickly continued when he felt the King's anger surge. "The egg has hatched for her. I saw the dragon myself."

_Hatched…_ Galbatorix echoed after a moment, as if unsure what the word meant. _The last egg in Alagaesia. Hatched._

Murtagh waited, frightened by the abrupt change in the King's mood.

Galbatorix stayed silent but did not withdraw from Murtagh's mind.

_You do not have her or the hatchling, I assume,_ he said eventually.

Murtagh answered reluctantly, "No, my lord."

A sudden, searing pain shot through Murtagh's whole body, making him cry out in pain. Thorn felt it too, making flying difficult. The dragon plummeted briefly, then steadied himself, only to veer off course again. Murtagh screamed and clutched at his head in agony.

Then, as suddenly as it began, the pain stopped.

_You've failed me again, boy. _Galbatorix snarled. _I should destroy you for it now but I still require you alive. Fly back to Uru'baen immediately. You do not know where she is, so you serve me better here._

With no warning, Galbatorix relaxed his death grip on Murtagh's mind, leaving him gasping for air.

Alone again in the clouds, Murtagh asked Thorn suddenly,

"Do you think Galbatorix placed spells to prevent us from killing ourselves?"

Thorn's worry at the question radiated to Murtagh.

_I wouldn't put it past him,_ he said eventually. _Why?_

Murtagh didn't answer, lost in thought.

"Do you think…One day…" He trailed off, not really caring how it sounded.

_Do I think one day we'll have to try it because we've run out of options?_ Thorn asked. _Yes, I do. _

Murtagh stayed silent, strangely numb. He felt drained, lifeless; and yet, somehow… Somehow he felt there was something new, something more. A week ago he would never have even contemplated suicide. And now… Now, the idea was both more and less compelling.

"How can something be both more and less appealing at the same time?" Murtagh said, frustrated with his own emotions.

_I think I know_, Thorn said slowly. _The idea of suicide is less appealing because now that you've met Meralaena, you think there might be a way out other than dying. And because you have someone to stay alive for. It's also more appealing because you know that eventually, Galbatorix will order you to kill her, which you would rather die than do._

A moment of silence passed. Then Murtagh said,

"If anyone but you had said that, I would have sworn them to be a liar." He paused, but then admitted, "Yet it's probably true. I would rather die than hurt Meralaena."

Thorn heaved a great sigh.

_Soon, small one, you will have to choose between saving yourself and saving this woman. I can only hope that there is indeed some way to break our ties to Galbatorix. Otherwise… _

"Otherwise," Murtagh summed up, "One of us is going to die."

**Ooh, one of them might die. But I told you that already. Anyway, I hope that you guys aren't hardcore fans of the books, because next chapter I use something that is only from the movie... please don't hate me... and please review! I don't know how many times i've said this but i'll say it again; i really value your ideas and input. Thanks again to all my reveiwers from last chapter :)**


	15. Chapter 15

**My apologies for the late update, we had family come over for the weekend, and according to my mother, spending twenty minutes on Fanfiction is considered 'antisocial.' But it's here now :) thanks to my reveiws from last chapter, you guys are amazing :) **

Miles away from Murtagh, Meralaena ran as if her life depended on it. The landscape melted away in a blur, and had anyone caught sight of her they would have seen a mere streak before she was gone.

Caution was a distant memory now; Meralaena headed straight for the Varden at top speed, merely skirting towns and cities, not caring who saw.

The encounter with Murtagh had shaken and thrilled her. Wild emotions raged underneath her calm surface, so she channeled them into pure, simple speed.

Her magical hold on Murtagh and Thorn had failed some time ago, and she knew that wherever they were now, they were free from her spell. It didn't matter now anyway. She had put enough distance between them to throw a pack of hunting wolves off her scent forever.

She tightened her hold on Char.

_Do you think you could fly?_ She asked suddenly as the idea struck. Char considered for a moment, then gave a surge of confidence through their link as his answer. Meralaena slowed, then came to a stop.

They were in the middle of the forest bordering the Empire, a distant arm of the Spine, the forest where Eragon had found Saphira's egg. There were trees scattered about, so Meralaena ran again, looking for a clearing or open space. In a few seconds she located one and raced for it. She came to a stop, quivering like an arrow from the speed of her travel, and put Char down.

He landed gracefully and flared his wings, which, Meralaena noticed, had changed significantly in the few days it had been since he'd hatched. When he was born they had been a transparent color with a slight shade of white. Now they had silvered, so much that they actually glimmered in the sunlight streaming into the clearing.

"Your wings are silver," Meralaena observed.

_Yes,_ Char said with a hint of pride_. Pretty, aren't they? _

"Very," Meralaena said with a suppressed laugh. Apparently all dragons were the same in at least one way; in her brief interactions with Saphira, Meralaena had noticed a sense of pride and dignity in the she-dragon, and that she enjoyed flattery.

Char huffed at the thought of enjoying flattery and hopped into the air, flapping madly. He fell, then tried again. Meralaena laughed.

"You look like an antelope bouncing in a field," she giggled. Char growled and started jumping higher, staying in the air for a few seconds before tumbling to the ground.

"Come on Char! You almost had it!" Meralaena yelled in encouragement. Char bobbed his head in a nod and went to the furthest edge of the tree grove. He took a running start, then bounded into the air and flapped furiously. He didn't waver or crash. He just circled the clearing, squeaking in delight.

Meralaena laughed and applauded for him.

"You're flying, Char! You're really flying!" Meralaena called to him. He circled one more time before shooting upwards and out of the clove, heading for open sky.

"Char, no!" Meralaena yelled after him. She sped after him and into the trees, straining for a glimpse of him.

_What are you doing? Get back here!_ Meralaena yelled after him.

Silence responded.

"Char!" she shouted.

_Go back to the clearing. I'll be back. _The message from Char was so faint, Meralaena almost missed it.

"What? No! Come back here right now!" Meralaena exclaimed. "Char?"_ Char!_

She tried to find him with her mind, but he had blocked her out. Annoyance flooded her as she trudged back to the clearing at human speed.

"Little white ball of scales," she muttered as she went. "Miserable, sorry reptile. Bundle of snake with legs. Heap of cold-blooded reptilian animal. No time to be flying off at random. We're at _war_ here, you could at least be careful, you pathetic excuse for a dragon."

Meralaena arrived back at the clearing and waited, tapping her fingers and spitting insults at her dragon.

A mighty roar sounded in the clouds, making Meralaena jump.

_Saphira? Impossible. _Meralaena thought. _So it must be… Thorn._

_Char, Thorn is here!_ Meralaena thought desperately. _Please come back, we have to run! _

A giant silver-white dragon burst out of the clouds from the direction the roar had come from and made its way to Meralaena.

"Char?" Meralaena whispered in shock. Char roared again and folded his wings, now each longer than Meralaena was tall, and landed in the clearing. She felt the ground tremble as he fell to the earth.

Meralaena stared at him, open mouthed and speechless.

_I haven't seen you this shocked since I hatched,_ he said.

Meralaena's shock deepened – Char's voice was different. Older. Deeper. Fiercer, somehow. More like a dragon.

Meralaena didn't speak as she looked at her dragon, marveling at the transformation.

Char was much bigger; before his head had come up to her knees. Now she stood level with his shoulder, and she had to look up to meet his eyes. His teeth and talons were longer in proportion to his body, and his spikes had grown and sharpened. From head to tail Meralaena estimated he was about eight meters long and just under two meters at the shoulder.

He also seemed whiter somehow, brighter. His scales glittered like snow in the sun, and the silver scales shone like stars. She thought he looked like a walking diamond set in a silver frame.

He also seemed more dangerous; where before Meralaena had seen cuteness – in his eyes, in his wings as he attempted flight, in his growls as he tried to be fierce – she now saw deadly strength and power. His eyes were still silver-gray, but instead of being soft and caring, they were harder. His wings were now instruments of flight – huge, glimmering silver and obviously very strong. As for his growling – Meralaena eyes his teeth with admiration. She didn't want to be on the receiving end of his anger.

All in all, she though Char was enough to frighten the most hardened warriors.

He was also very beautiful; with his silver-white scales, shining silver wings and proud bearing, Meralaena felt extremely lucky to be his rider.

"You're incredible," she told him truthfully. Char hummed in pleasure, sending little vibrations into the ground.

"How… How did you…" Meralaena trailed off, gesturing vaguely at him.

_Persimitisus,_ Char said.

"Pers… What?" Meralaena repeated.

_Persimitisus, _Char said again. _Rapid change of a dragon from a hatchling to full grown. _

"Oh, that's what it's called!" Meralaena exclaimed. "Eragon told me about when Saphira went through the same transformation, but I didn't know it had a name. It must be weird for you."

_It is a bit strange,_ Char said. _But I much prefer it_. He arched his neck and flexed his wings, sending a gust of wind across the clearing.

"I guess you're big enough to ride now," Meralaena though aloud.

Char sent a pulse of happiness to her at the idea and bumped her impatiently with his nose.

She smiled and climbed up his leg, grabbing one of his spikes to haul herself onto his back. Meralaena settled comfortable into a hollow between spikes at his shoulders. His wings were directly behind her position.

"I don't weigh you down at all?" she asked. Char cast her an insulted glance. "Just checking."

_So, _Char asked,_ to the Varden?_

"Yes," Meralaena said as the happy moment ended with a return to reality. "To the Varden."

**So there's the bit from the movie. I got tired of waiting for Char to get big enough to ride, so I used the transformation from the movie, but everything else will be true to the books. So, feedback? Ideas? Let me know what you thought! Thanks again to everyone who is reading this and to everyone who has reveiwed/favourited/alerted, ect. you guys are great! See you next Saturday!**


	16. Chapter 16

**Hello everybody! So I actually managed to update on time this week! Thank you to everybody who read and/or reviewed last chapter, and I want to especially thank a few people who have reviewed multiple times and have given me tons of criticism and ideas: Restrained Freedom, Disk9 and ShatterTheHeavens. You guys are amazing! **

The next three days passed in a blur for Meralaena and Char. They flew high and fast, making very good time. A journey that would have taken Meralaena at least one week running now took them three short days. They flew as high as possible to avoid being seen, even though they passed mostly over unpopulated areas.

Their bond strengthened immensely in this time. Meralaena felt her relationship with Char shifting, becoming more balanced. Before his transformation into a full-grown dragon, Char had relied almost completely on her. Now it was reciprocal, with both partners relying on each other.

They passed over the desert separating Surda from the Empire in half a day, and soon after they found themselves confronted by the massive Bohr Mountains.

Meralaena had always loved mountains, especially big ones, but the Bohr Mountains were in a category all by themselves. An estimated ten miles high and going for as long as she could see in both directions, they were the largest land formation in Alagaesia and enough to make anyone, even dragons, feel very small. The vast majority of the mountains were above the snowline, with the rest almost blending into the sky because of their white color.

The last day of their journey was spent flying towards the Bohrs, then winding their way through valleys and rocky crags when they arrived. Char flew towards the Varden, relying on memories he got from Meralaena to find his way.

Eventually they came to a single, narrow valley that turned off the large one they had been following. They flew along above it, keeping a lookout for Varden scouts.  
><em>How do you suppose they'll react to another dragon?<em> Char asked randomly.

"Well… I don't know," Meralaena said. "I should think they'd be very happy to have you there – they could certainly use another dragon and rider."

_I know that,_ he said. _But how do you suppose… Eragon and Saphira will react? _

"You mean, 'How will _Saphira_ react,' right?" Meralaena asked with a laugh.

_I do not!_ Char growled. Meralaena smiled and let it drop.

_Well, I think she'll be very pleased to have you_. Char didn't acknowledge that he'd heard her, and Meralaena fell silent with a chuckle.

They flew in silence for a little while. Meralaena's emotions were melancholy, and she tried to shield it from Char, but of course he felt it anyway.

"I'm worried about Murtagh," she said eventually. "I mean… I know he's probably fine, and I know that Galbatorix won't kill him for letting us get away… but still. Do you think he's alright?"

_I think he's fine,_ Char said. _At least, I think he's still alive_.

"That's not very reassuring," she replied.

Char rumbled underneath her.

_Murtagh is very capable,_ He said. _Logically, the only people he is in any danger from are you and Galbatorix. And maybe Eragon. Now, you are right here, and Eragon is still in Surda while Murtagh is probably in Uru'baen. So the only person you need to worry about is Galbatorix, and we do that every day anyway. Relax, rider, _he said when she remained tense. _Murtagh will not die any time soon._

"He will if Nasuada and Eragon have their way," Meralaena replied.

That stymied Char for a moment. Before he could think of a reply, Meralaena recognized the valley that doubled as front door for the Varden coming up.

_Here we go,_ Meralaena thought with a strange apprehension she did not understand.

Char dipped forward and folded his wings to half size. They dropped like a stone in water, and the sudden decrease in gravity made Meralaena feel like she'd left her stomach behind. The air whistled past them, and Meralaena's hair tore free of her band and snapped around her face from their speed. She laughed as the surge of exhilaration and excitement coming from Char flooded her. The ground whizzed towards them, and just as Meralaena thought in a surge of fear that Char had waited too long he snapped open his wings and caught them. The jolt threw her against his shoulders and left her breathless, hugging his neck and laughing. The brief moment of joy faded quickly, though.

Char folded his wings again and landed gently, coming to rest before an apparently blank rock face.

They were in a circular valley of sorts, surrounded by crags and rocky outcroppings.

_This is a perfect place for an ambush_, Char muttered.

_I know_, Meralaena said. _The Varden probably have men watching us right now. _

Char growled deep in his throat.

_Come on,_ Meralaena said. She spoke a few brief words in the ancient language, and a section of the rock face shifted back to reveal a long, dark tunnel.

Char tensed and the idea of going inside the dark, small hole but moved forward anyway. Darkness engulfed rider and dragon as they entered the tunnel, leaving the sunlight behind them. The rock slid over the entrance again, leaving the two in total blackness, which for Meralaena and Char did not equal blindness.

Without a word they started walking, their footsteps echoing strangely. Neither spoke, and for the next two hours the only sounds were the shuffling of Char's feet on the stone floor and their breathing. Eventually light shone dimly from somewhere ahead, and Char quickened his pace.

They came out into a large, underground chamber big enough to hold a few hundred troops.

Surrounding them, weapons drawn, was a group of perhaps twenty Varden soldiers, who recoiled in shock and fear when they saw Char.

Char snarled at them and blew a gust of smoke and hot air.

"Relax, Char," Meralaena said before he could incinerate them. "This is just standard procedure. They have to be careful."

Char folded his wings and continued staring at the soldiers. To the men, Meralaena said,

"You can put our weapons away, soldiers of the Varden. I am a friend."

"We know who you are," One man, apparently the leader of the regiment, said with a nervous glance at Char. "We know who you are, but security must come first."

"Of course," Meralaena replied. "And, just to speed things up, I will call Eragon and Saphira."

Before the man could protest, Meralaena let down her mental barriers and threw her mind beyond the cavern, beyond the soldiers, searching deep into the Varden's stronghold. She came across thousands of people; hundreds of dwarves, some humans, and even an elf – _That must be Arya_, she thought – but she didn't stop till she sensed Saphira.

It was easy to tell the difference between the dragon's mind and everyone else's. While the humans and dwarves minds were rather small feeling, with only their own consciousness and thoughts to worry about, Saphira's mind was a symphony of cacophonous noise and thoughts.

Soon after Meralaena located Saphira, she found Eragon. Eragon's mind was perhaps the largest in the structure besides her own – She could feel his mind, more complex and powerful than any of the other humans inside the Varden's walls.

Meralaena focused on his mind, then probed it. Immediately strong mental barriers sprung up around his mind as he felt her pressure.

_Eragon,_ she said as loudly as she could so as to be heard through the walls. _Eragon, it's me. Meralaena. _

Meralaena felt Saphira's mind join Eragon's, in the same way Char was partially inside Meralaena, and join her strength with her rider's.

_This isn't working_, Char commented.

Meralaena didn't reply, just drew away from Eragon's mind and stopped pressing. In a moment he cautiously let his barriers down and extended his mind to meet hers.

_Meralaena_? He asked.

_Hello,_ she replied.

_You have returned,_ Saphira commented.

_Yes,_ Meralaena answered. _We – I – am waiting for clearance at the cavern entrance. Care to speed up the process?_

_We're on our way, _Eragon said.

Dimly Meralaena felt Saphira take off.

_Did you get the egg?_ Eragon asked.

Meralaena paused as the enormity of the answer assaulted her.

_Oh yes,_ she said_. I got the egg._

_Meralaena,_ Saphira said suspiciously, _What are you hiding?_

_You'll see soon enough,_ Meralaena replied, and withdrew her mind.

Back in the cavern with Char, Meralaena shared a nervous glance with her dragon.

"Now we find out what happens," she murmured.

Char stayed quiet, but Meralaena could feel worry pulsing through him like waves through the ocean.

After a few minutes faint wingbeats reached her ears, but it was another minute before Saphira soared into view, Eragon a small figure clinging to her back.

_Here we go, _Char muttered as the other pair began their descent.

**And that's all for this time. What will happen when Eragon and Saphira meet Meralaena and Char? Should be interesting… Please tell me what you thought! And if you have a good idea for what Eragon and Saphira's reactions might be, drop me a review and I might use it. Reviews make my day/week/life… wow, I really need to get some friends and a social circle :P anyway thanks again to my reviewers and please tell me what you thought or what you think should happen! **


	17. Chapter 17

**Hello Everyone! I want to thank my reviewers from last chapter; Restrained Freedom, ShatterTheHeavens, and my first-time reviewer Galby'sapimp. You guys are awesome, thank you so much :) I apoligize in advance for the length of this chapter, I ran out of time... :) So thanks to everyone who has been reading this, and please drop a review :)**

After a few minutes of waiting for Eragon and Saphira, faint wingbeats reached Meralaena's ears, but it was another minute before Saphira soared into view, Eragon a small figure clinging to her back.

Meralaena saw Saphira's flight falter as the she-dragon caught sight of Char. Distracted, she almost didn't stop her flight in time to land. The blue dragon flared her wings moments before falling to the earth, and swerved to avoid the soldiers. Eragon's mouth stayed open in shock throughout the bumpy landing, and as Saphira stopped her momentum she let her wings fall limp.

Absolute silence fell.

For a moment they stayed like that. Then Meralaena cautiously cleared her throat.

"Char, this is Eragon Shadeslayer and Saphira Bjartskular," she said in a formal tone she almost never used.

They nodded mechanically, more out of habit than politeness.

"Eragon, Saphira, this is Char." She paused, then said in a rush, "My dragon."

If she thought the cavern couldn't have gotten quieter, she was wrong. The silence deepened to the point where the air felt thick with it.

Char broke the soundlessness with a low rumble.

As if time re-started, Eragon and Saphira snapped out of their shocked fazes and started moving and breathing again.

Eragon slid his legs over Saphira's back and jumped to the ground. Meralaena copied his motion and landed at Char's shoulder.

"It's an honor to meet you," Eragon told Char.

_Likewise_, Char replied.

Saphira brought her wings up and folded them on her back properly.

_Yes, it is good to have you here,_ she said, still partially reeling from shock but trying to conceal it. _Perhaps with this advantage we may finally turn the tide against Galbatorix._

"It is our hope," Meralaena and Char said at the same time.

Eragon's lips twitched.

"We should go to Nasuada," he said. "She will have to be notified immediately, and she'll want a report."

Meralaena nodded.

"You may return to your posts," Eragon told the soldiers. They saluted and began moving out of the cavern in an orderly formation.

Meralaena turned to Char to say something, but stopped. Her dragon was gazing at Saphira with a sort of bedazzled expression. Saphira, on the other hand, was staring off in another direction, coyly ignoring him. Meralaena almost laughed out loud, then contained herself and glanced at Eragon. He was staring at Saphira, apparently at loss as to her odd behavior. Then understanding crossed his face, and he looked over at Char, then at Meralaena. Their eyes met, and a giggle rose in Meralaena's throat and a guffaw in Eragon's.

A moment of quiet ensued as they tried to remain silent, but it was quickly broken as the two riders' collapsed into uncontrollable fits of laughter.

_What?_ Char said, obviously miffed. Meralaena tried to answer him but was overcome by another wave of hysterical giggling.

Across the room a few paces, Eragon fell to his knees with the force of his laughter while Saphira watched him curiously.

Eragon glanced up again and met Meralaena's eyes for a split second. It wasn't long, but it was enough to redouble the humour of the situation.

Meralaena laughed, and as she did she felt the stress and heaviness of the past few weeks drain away. It was as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Only the memory of Murtagh's dark eyes in her dream kept her from absolute happiness.

She fell to a sitting position and wiped tears out of her eyes as the laughing finally began to subside.

She wasn't even sure what was so funny – she just knew that it felt good to laugh again.

A few feet away Eragon took a few deep breaths and tried to straighten out his face, which seemed to curve into a grin without his willing it.

"It's good to see you again, my friend," Meralaena said when she'd completely stopped.

"Aye," Eragon agreed. "It's good to see you too."

They shared a companionable smile before reality set in again.

"We should go to Nasuada," Eragon said.

Meralaena groaned inwardly at the prospect and swung herself to her feet, holding onto Char's wing.

In non-spoken agreement, the four decided to walk the distance to Nasuada's audience chamber instead of flying. Her bodyguards, a group of fighters called the Nighthawks, weren't very fond of the idea of dragons and their riders being around their queen, even if they were allies – it was a good idea, Meralaena thought, to look as non-threatening as possible.

Throughout the ten-minute walk, Eragon and Saphira kept stealing glances at Char, which the male dragon did his best to ignore.

Once Meralaena caught Eragon staring, and he grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry," he said. "It's just weird, seeing another dragon up close that I don't have to try and kill."

Meralaena smiled to let him know it was fine, and Char playfully blew smoke at him. Saphira said nothing, just kept doing her best to look like she wasn't staring at Char whenever she thought he wasn't looking.

Soon they arrived at Nasuada's audience chamber.

Two massive Urgals, both wearing the Nighthawks' uniform and carrying the Nighthawk's shields stood side-by-side, barring the doors.

"We must see Nasuada immediately," Eragon told them. "Tell her that our agent has returned and has a report for her."

One of the guards nodded his huge, horned head and stepped inside the doors. The other remained outside, eyeing the two dragons with something that could almost be described as nervousness.

A moment later the first guard came back and ushered them into a large room with pale stone walls and a high-backed chair, almost like a throne.

"Lord Eragon and Lady Meralaena, my Lady," he said in his heavy accent, and left the room.

Meralaena took a deep breath and prepared to meet the queen.

**And there it is. I was having trouble wrapping up this chapter so i just sort of ended it... So if you enjoyed it (even just a little bit) then please drop a review :)** **How did I do writing Eragon? I was afraid I may not be able to write him properly because he's such a cool character... :) Let me know how I did!**


	18. Chapter 18

Meralaena and Eragon entered the room, Char and Saphira following close behind.

Sitting in a high-backed chair, her midnight hair done up in a complicated series of braids and knots, was a beautiful woman with pitch black skin and intelligent eyes. Her presence filled the room – there was something in her bearing and manner that commanded attention and respect. Her head was held high, and she observed the party with regal interest.

At least, her expression _was_ regal interest till Char entered the room.

Even Nasuada, with all her years of emotional restraint and practice at controlling facial expressions, even the queen of the Varden with all her collected coolness, could not stop the look of utter astonishment that spread across her face. Her hands grasped the armrests of the chair, and her knuckles paled as she squeezed.

Nasuada felt as if all the air had suddenly been squeezed from her lungs. She felt the blood draining from her face and rushing to her head, and she leaned back as the dizziness of complete shock hit her.

She'd seen many horrifying, evil things before. She had been in battle and witnessed things that drove strong men mad. She had come face-to-face with some of the Varden's greatest enemies. But never in her life had she been as surprised, so thrown off as she was at that moment.

Her mouth hung open as the white dragon fully entered the room and the door swung shut behind him. She hardly heard Eragon speaking, and she had no idea what he was saying. It was all white noise in the face of this.

"My Lady," she heard someone, probably Meralaena, say. "My Lady?" Nasuada didn't respond. Oh, to think that this meant! Another rider! The odds against the empire were equaled! They actually had a chance again! To think of the King's anger at that moment… Nasuada's mouth curved in a smile at the thought.

"_Nasuada_!" Meralaena finally took the queen's arms and shook her.

With difficulty Nasuada dragged her eyes off the massive white dragon and turned to the woman before her.

Meralaena could tell when she caught Nasuada's attention, and stepped back from the throne.

"My Lady, this is my dragon Char," she said in a falsely calm voice. "Char, this is Lady Nasuada, leader of the Varden."

"It is an honor to meet you, Char," Nasuada managed.

_And you,_ Char replied. _You have built a strong fortress with which to defy Galbatorix. I admire you for that. It is a rare human who has the courage to stand up to such odds with the gall to hope to win against them. _

"It is my pleasure to welcome you to Tronjheim," Nasuada said. Now that the initial shock was over, she was quickly regaining her usual manner and control. "I am pleased to have you here. To have you both back is a great relief." Nasuada sighed. "When news of Glenaldor reached us we feared the worst."

Meralaena nodded, not wanting to dwell on the fate of her friend.

"Your report?" Nasuadas requested in a return to formality.

Meralaena straightened and clasped her hands behind her back, unconsciously falling into the traditional attention pose of the Grey Folk's military, which she had been a part of and which she still had a habit of imitating.

"Everything went according to plan for the first stages," she said. "Alanna, Dusan and I entered the castle unnoticed and attained the egg. The difficulty came in getting out."

Meralaena paused, preparing herself to go over the next few moments of memory without wavering, even though the thoughts of Murtagh were burned painfully into her memory.

"On the journey out we were sighted, and Murtagh and Thorn found us." She was very proud of herself – her voice hadn't broken, even when she said _his_ name. "We ran, and managed to get out of the fortress unscathed – but Galbatorix knew that we had captured the egg. He sent Murtagh after us, but we avoided him for a few days."

She stopped, going over the events again in her mind, imagining Alanna and Dusan giving the same report to Islanzadi.

"We separated soon after leaving Uru'Baen, me carrying the egg. The idea was to distract out pursuers, make the enemy choose which one of use to chase."

The use of the words 'the enemy' in place of Murtagh chilled her, but she ignored it as best she could.

"It was on the journey to Furnost that Chat hatched. You can imagine my shock," she said with a small smile, which quickly faded as she went on.

"The worst blow came when I arrived at Furnost and found Glenaldor dead, obviously killed by a dragon. I fled the town, but Murtagh and Thorn were still in the area and caught up to me just outside the gates."

Nasuada's eyes widened minutely, and she leaned forward.

"I immobilized them, and it cost me a great deal of energy, but we escaped."

No need to tell Nasuada that Meralaena could have killed them both. She'd probably ask why she hadn't, and Meralaena knew she didn't have an answer for that.

"Char and I made the rest of the journey in the air. He went through the transformation from hatchling to full grown mere hours after we left Murtagh and Thorn, and we flew the rest of the way."

"I see," Nasuada said. "So now, here we are, with our assets doubled and our enemy incensed."

A smile grew on her dark face.

"Well done, Meralaena. Well done."

Meralaena nodded, accepting her praise, but inside she felt hollow. Merely going over the events that brought her face-to-face with Murtagh sent her spinning with heady emotions; dwelling on where he was now sent jolts of pure terror through her, and imagining the next time they would meet made her feel light headed.

_Oh, Murtagh_, she thought with a mixture of sadness and apprehension laced with a guilty, unrestrained happiness. _You have captured me more thoroughly than I can ever let you know – not physically, not mentally – no, you have climbed inside my heart and staked a claim there, and no force on this earth can remove you. Who am I to try? _

Eragon pulled her away from the consuming thoughts by addressing Nasuada.

"My lady, Queen Islanzadi has requested that you contact her as soon as you have the time," he informed her. "She wishes to speak with you."

"Thank you, Eragon" Nasuada said.

Feeling the conversation drawing to a close, Meralaena didn't wait for Nasuada to dismiss them.

"I'm sure king Hrothgar will want to know as soon as possible about Char," she said of the dwarf king.

"Yes," Nasuada agreed. "He will. Head over there when you leave."

"Yes, my Lady," Meralaena replied automatically.

**And there it is. I was having trouble wrapping this chapter up so I just sorta ended it… Reviews make me feel warm and fuzzy inside. If you don't review I will tell my pet bunny to attack your socks. Hahaha that was random… anyway, please tell me what you thought! **


	19. Chapter 19

**Hello peoples of Fanfiction! Thanks a ton to last chapters reviewers; ShatterTheHeavens, Restrained Freedom, Kate, ****GSFEfan25**** and DiamondOfNight, your feedback makes me smile! Now I feel warm and fuzzy :) I have nothing else to say this author's note… so on with the story! **

Feeling the conversation with the queen drawing to a close, Meralaena didn't wait for Nasuada to dismiss them.

"I'm sure the dwarf counsel will want to know as soon as possible about Char," Meralaena said of the dwarf rulers.

"Yes," Nasuada agreed. "They will. Head over there when you leave."

"Yes, my Lady," Meralaena replied automatically.

At that moment a heavy knock sounded from the door, which almost immediately after burst open.

Meralaena and Eragon moved in front of Nasuada, but it was quickly apparent that there was no threat.

Three dwarves entered, flanked by the two Nighthawks. The urgal guards looked incensed, but the dwarves ignored them completely. They didn't, however, ignore Char and Saphira.

The dragons' huge, scaled heads snapped around as the doors opened. When the dwarves entered, Saphira relaxed slightly. Char, however, was not so easily calmed.

The white dragon snarled menacingly, lips curling back over ivory incisors. He was tense – Meralaena could see the muscles in his chest and back rolling with tension under the white armor of his scales – and he raised is tail threateningly.

The dwarves blanched, but held their positions.

_Relax, Char_, Meralaena thought. _These are… allies._

She had been about to say 'friends,' but, as she considered it, the term didn't really seem appropriate for the dwarves. Sure, they were allies with the Varden, but the dwarves weren't always on good terms with the humans and elves.

"What is this?" Nasuada demanded. "Are your rulers so impatient that they cannot wait for my messenger?"

"No, Lady Nasuada," the middle dwarf replied. He was taller than the other two, but still three heads shorter than Meralaena. His hair was delicate silver and his face was aged, but his body belayed his face; he was stocky in build, and Meralaena could see the powerful muscles in his arms.

All three dwarves carries heavy axes on their backs and wore chain mail.

"The elders wish to speak with you immediately about the… New rider," he said with a long look at Char.

"Of course they do," Nasuada said sharply. "You can tell them that I will speak with them as soon as possible, just as I had planned. I have things to attend to here first."

"They specifically requested – "

"I will see your elders as soon as I have finished attending to my own affairs," Nasuada said sternly.

The dwarf looked like he wanted to argue, but instead bowed and, with a last look at Char, exited the room. The two other dwarves followed, and the guards exited the chamber behind them.

The door thudded shut, and Nasuada sighed.

"This will complicate things," Meralaena said as a statement, not a question.

Nasuada nodded.

"Impossibly. The political situation between us, the dwarves and the elves in already fragile. I don't know if it can handle the addition of another rider."

"It has to," Eragon said. "If we cannot cope with such an asset, we will not win this war."

"I know," Nasuada said. "But the elves will want Meralaena and Char to go to Du Weldenvarden for training, and the Dwarves will revolt against the idea because, in their view, it gives the elves an unfair line to you."

"So… pretty much the same situation that resulted when Eragon and Saphira showed up," Meralaena summed up.

"Essentially, yes," Nasuada agreed.

"Well darn," Meralaena said when silence fell. "That was messy. And lingering tensions still haven't abated."

"But surely the elves and dwarves have learned from that," Eragon said. "They must realize that working together has never been more important than it is now."

"You would think so," Nasuada sighed in a tone that said she didn't think it likely.

"Well you know," Meralaena said, "we could always just… Not tell the elves."

She spoke hurriedly in response to Eragon and Nasuada's shocked expressions.

"I mean, not right away. Obviously they'll find out eventually, but if we give the dwarves some time to adjust to the idea then when we tell the elves, the first bout would already be over."

Nasuada was quiet for a moment, processing the idea. A slow smile spread across her lips.

"If Islanzadi finds out from someone else, all hell will break loose," she said.

Meralaena smiled wanly.

"Hell's already broken loose. And it's our job to try and chain the devil. We can't defeat Galbatorix with only Eragon and Saphira. You _need_ another rider, and the elves will have to accept that."

Nasuada nodded.

"Agreed. We will not tell the elves immediately. Word of Char's existence must not leave this stronghold. I will speak to the dwarves and the soldiers who have already seen him and ensure their silence."

Eragon shifted uneasily but did not speak. Meralaena understood his unease; she knew the human rider well, and she knew that dishonesty was not part of his character.

"I don't like it either," Meralaena told him. "But if it will ease the political situation…"

Eragon nodded, though he still appeared unhappy.

"Eragon," Nasuada said, "You must not tell Arya about this either."

He sighed.

"I know. That's what worries me." His eyes were conflicted when he looked up, meeting Meralaena's eyes briefly before transferring his gaze to Nasuada. "She would want to know."

"I know," Nasuada said understandingly. "But she is an elf, and for the meantime at least, you will keep this information from her."

Eragon nodded. "Yes, my lady."

Meralaena glanced over at Char, who had remained silent for most of the exchange. His eyes were fixed unashamedly on Saphira, who was continuing her earlier policy of ignoring him.

Meralaena sighed. She'd been expecting Char to gravitate towards the blue dragon – after all, she was the last female dragon in existence – but she disliked seeing it happen.

_Jealous, Mera?_ Char asked.

_Go dig a hole_, she replied edgily. _And don't call me Mera. _Amusement radiated from Char.

_You're cute when you're irritated_, her dragon told her. Meralaena turned to him, head snapping around so fast that her flame-red hair fanned out behind her and her gray eyes glinting dangerously.

_I'm _what_ when I'm irritated? _

Char snorted, not intimidated in the least.

_You. Are. Cute. When. Irritated. _

Meralaena growled and turned back to Nasuada and Eragon, firmly blocking Char's thoughts.

"Where will Char and I stay if we can't tell the elves about him?" Meralaena asked. "There are a number of people in the Varden who might take it apon themselves to inform the elves, and I for one do not trust the majority of your spellcasters."

"Neither do I," Eragon said.

"That is an easily solved problem," Nasuada said. "I have a job for you."

"Another one?" Meralaena said, surprised. Usually Nasuada allowed at least a few days between assignments.

"Yes," the dark-skinned woman confirmed. "A job that will be made much easier with the existence of Char." She turned slightly to include the two dragons in the conversation. "Originally I planned on sending Eragon and Saphira on this task, but the recent movement of Galbatorix's troops has made me reconsider sending one of our two best fighters away. Since we are attempting to conceal Char from the majority of the populace, it makes sense to send Meralaena and Char because they will be away from the Varden."

Meralaena nodded, and Char gave a rumble of assent.

"What's the job?" Meralaena asked.

"It's a scouting mission," Nasuada replied. "We have received reports that Galbatorix's armies are massing near Surda's border. King Orin has requested that I send someone to scout out the situation, and to go undercover and hunt for information if necessary."

_What do we know about the situation?_ Char asked.

"Not much," Nasuada told him. "We know that the majority of Galbatorix's troops are still in the Empire, so he can't be planning a full-scale attack on the Varden. However, he may be planning on attempting to take Surda."

Saphira hissed through her teeth.

"Surda has been our most constant ally," Eragon said. "We cannot allow them to fall."

"No," Nasuada agreed. "But neither can we offer our unlimited assistance. Such a decision would affect the dwarf and elf nations as well."

"But we will offer them some help," Meralaena stated.

Nasuada nodded.

"We will. I have already sent a fraction of our troops to bolster King Orrin's armies on the border, but if Galbatorix attacks it won't be enough. That's why I am sending you to gather information and, if necessary, fight for Surda if and when the king attacks."

Meralaena was silent for a moment.

"I had no idea things were so bad," she finally said.

"Much happened in the time you were gone," Nasuada said. "The king is not a fool; he knows that if he can take Surda, he will eventually be able to take the Varden."

"Then we must stop him from taking Surda," Eragon surmised. "Why don't you send all our troops to King Orrin's aid and fight Galbatorix together?"

"Because it may be a ruse," Nasuada replied. "Galbatorix has enough troops to make it look like he is about to attack Surda, while really attacking somewhere else. We cannot afford to let our own defenses stand unguarded."

Meralaena and Char shared a look.

"Murtagh and Thorn are most likely still out there looking for us," Meralaena said. "Galbatorix knows about Char. Is sending us out again so soon worth the risk of meeting the red rider?"

"I believe we have no choice," Nasuada said simply, and Meralaena believed her. "I want to keep Eragon and Saphira here to defend the Varden and the dwarves here at Tronjheim in case of attack." Meralaena may have been many times the human woman's age, but the Varden's leader had proven that she was a much better strategist and ruler, so Meralaena didn't question her.

_If Galbatorix's troops do attack our allies in Surda_, Char said, _my rider and I will fight for all we are worth to ensure victory_.

Meralaena smiled, proud of her dragon's spirit.

"When do we leave?"

**There's some more action and Murtagh coming up soon**. **In a few chapters at least… **

**There once was a poo**

**Who didn't review **

**So Rose smacked his head**

**With her dirty old shoe **

**Please review! But if you don't I promise I won't hit you with my shoe. I will give you brownies. *holds out brownies***


	20. Chapter 20

**Hello everyone! Thanks to my reviews from last chapter; Restrained Freedom, ShatterTheHeavens, Galby'sapimp, Tripplefrozen, Kate and Vesper's Lullaby. And I want to personally thank Vesper's Lullaby for pointing out a mistake that I really should have noticed, and that it that Murtagh killed Hrothgar at the Burning plains, so he should be dead by this point in the story. My apologies, I was tired when I wrote that chapter… :P so I'm going to change that to say the dwarf counsel instead of Hrothgar. To answer your question, Vesper, Meralaena did not know about the Firstborns because when she was born they had already almost dissapeared, and the colored dragons were the most common. Also Meralaena was very young for a Grey Folk (She was among the last five or so to be born)****, so she didn't know everything about them yet. I hope that clears up some of your confusion ****: ) **

One day after the meeting with Nasuada, Meralaena and Char said their farewells to the Varden.

_That was certainly a short stay_, Char said as they made their way to the exit after bidding goodbye to Nasuada and Eragon.

"Yes," Meralaena agreed. "The battle against Galbatorix is escalating. Nasuada will need every resource she has to keep the Varden from falling."

The red-haired woman and her silver dragon were making their way through one of the deserted corridors of Tronjheim. The stone hallway was totally empty, and the nearest populated area was four floors above and two miles right.

_What will we do if we meet Murtagh and Thorn again?"_ Char asked. Meralaena heard the implied question; 'what will _you_ do?'

"I don't know," she said truthfully, stomach lurching uncomfortable at the idea. "I don't want to kill him. Them, I mean."

Char hummed, sending tiny vibrations into the stone floor and up Meralaena's legs.

_We may have to_, Char said. _Your loyalty to the Varden must outweigh any feelings you have for our enemies. _

"Feelings for the enemy?" Meralaena repeated, coming to a stop. Chat stopped as well and turned to face her.

_Yes, feelings. You try to hide it, and you do a very good job, but I am your dragon. You can't hide your emotions from me. _

"I... it doesn't matter if I feelings for Murtagh!" spat Meralaena in denial. "You know that they won't change anything. Murtagh is totally wrong for me, it doesn't make a difference if he's been in my dreams."

_No, but you've been in his_, Char said. _And that might make a difference. _

"How so?" Meralaena asked guardedly.

_Motivation,_ Char replied simply_. Murtagh and Thorn now have a reason to attempt to free themselves. _

"And they didn't before?" Meralaena asked.

_Well, they did_, Char admitted, _but I have a feeling that now you have entered the picture as a dragon rider, Murtagh and Thorn have more reason to hope._

Meralaena silently started walking again.

The two of them continued through the stone corridor till they came to the tunnel leading to the outside. They made the two-hour trip as quickly as possible, cutting it down to an hour.

They came to the end of the tunnel and stopped, facing the rock wall. Meralaena once again spoke the words that would let them outside.

"You know," she said grimly as the segment of rock slid away, "I don't think Nasuada understood the full danger of sending us out again so soon."

_Well how could she?_ Her dragon said. _You didn't tell her everything. She can't make fully informed decisions without all the information. _

"Do you think I should have told her? About my dreams, I mean." Char looked up at the sun, just beginning its journey across the sky, and huffed a cloud of smoke.

_No_, he said eventually. _This is between you and Murtagh_.

"There is _nothing_ between me and Murtagh," Meralaena snapped, suddenly irritated. "I don't know why you think that just because I can't control what I dream about means that there is some connection between him and I. He's wrong for me, I'm wrong for him, we're both just _wrong_. It's an impossibility for us to be anything other than mortal enemies."

Char gazed at her with mellow gray eyes, and her irritation vanished.

"Sorry."

_We should go,_ Char replied kindly, choosing not to respond to her prior annoyance or her apology. _Whether we meet Murtagh again or not, we have been given an assignment. _

Meralaena sighed and mounted, bounding up his leg and settling into the leather saddle that Eragon had lent them.

"We're lucky that Saphira had a spare saddle," Meralaena mentioned. "Flying without one sure was uncomfortable."

Char gave a mental nod of agreement and unfurled his wings. With a roar he leapt off the ground and caught them, using his massive, silver wings to propel them away from the earth. He angled sharply to avoid the canyon walls, flying almost strait up before leveling out and angling their course towards Surda.

_It feels wrong to leave again after being back for just a day_, Meralaena thought. _The Varden is the only home I have anymore; it feels strange to be away from it so much. _

_When this war is over, _Char said_, we can make a new home. When the Black Tyrant finally dies, all will be set right. But for now, we must harden ourselves to the task. _

Meralaena smiled at the wisdom of the dragon.

_You are wise beyond your years. Or days, I guess._

Char hummed in pleasure at the compliment.

_Not as wise as you, _he answered_. You actually have the years. _

Meralaena stiffened, a shadow appearing in her eyes.

_I'm not wise_, she confessed. _I'm not even smart. If I'd been smart, I would've… _She trailed off as the list of things she could have done differently in her two and a half thousand years ran through her mind.

She could have obeyed her mothers' wishes instead of following her sister into rebellion. She could have participated in the final spell, the spell that re-shaped magic, instead of running. Perhaps then her race would have survived.

She could have stopped her sister from shirking her responsibilities. Perhaps then she would still be alive.

She could have told Nasuada the entire truth about her feelings for Murtagh. Perhaps then she wouldn't be so conflicted.

And, most of all, she could have stayed with Murtagh back at Uru'baen. Perhaps then she would know he was safe. Perhaps then she would not be enduring the wild torrent of emotions that threatened to overwhelm her.

Char flinched form the onslaught of memories and regrets pouring from his rider.

"Char," Meralaena gasped, and to her dragon it sounded like a plea for help. "I can't take this anymore. The emotions, they hurt, like they're on fire… Why do they hurt?"

Char was silent, shocked at the outburst.

"Twenty-five hundred years," Meralaena said. "That's how old I am. So how can a human who is at most twenty years old have such an effect on me? It's illogical. Stupid. Reckless. I'm an idiot…" she stopped again as a low moan of agony escaped her lips. "Emotions shouldn't hurt! I though I could control them, but I guess not… oh Char, make them stop…" And with that, she leaned her head against Char's neck, fighting tears.

The huge dragon balked, completely unprepared for his rider's outburst. Char was prepared to fight Thorn or Shruken, and prepared to die doing it, but he was not prepared to deal with this.

On his back, Meralaena went limp in the saddle as all her bottled emotions came pouring out. Her tears wet her shirt and Char's scales, and a single drop fell from her eye towards the earth. Meralaena watched it as it fell, sparkling like a diamond in the sunshine.

_I'm like that tear_, she realized. _Alone, separated from the rest of my kin, falling towards an unstoppable fate. The last of a kind… _

And as the last thought crossed her mind memories of her sister came flooding back, and Meralaena found herself shedding the tears she had been unable to cry the day her sister had died.

_Oh, Nitasha… I miss you_, she thought, consciously saying her sister's name for the first time since she'd died.

_What was she like?_ Char asked five minutes of crying later. Meralaena sniffed and wiped her eyes.

_She was… _Meralaena broke off, daunted by the task of describing the wonderful woman her sister had been. _She was incredible. She was beautiful – much prettier than me – and she was always getting into trouble. Back when the Grey Folk were still alive, Nitasha was always the one getting us into scrapes. _

Meralaena smiled sadly and sat up in the saddle, peeing down. The land below them was rocky and barren, and Meralaena absently noted that there was an eagle soaring some one hundred yards below them.

_What did she look like?_ Char asked, anxious to keep his rider from descending into sobs again.

Meralaena smiled and projected an image of Nitasha into Char's mind. He saw a pretty young woman, about the same height as Meralaena, laughing as she posed with a red-haired man. Her hair was dark, but her eyes were the same pale gray as Meralaena's. It was obvious that the two were sisters – they shared the same eyes, and the same wild, dangerous aura. Even from an image Char could see the power that Nitasha had wielded, and he recognized it as the same thing that he sensed in Meralaena.

_Who was the man?_ Char asked.

_My older brother Tryst_, Meralaena replied. _He died with the others. _

Char rumbled in sympathy, wordlessly comforting his rider.

A few moments later Meralaena withdrew slightly, reasserting control over the memories that wanted to be relived. She drew the unruly thoughts of her family back into a small corner of her mind and sealed it tightly shut, locking them away along with her feelings for Murtagh.

_I don't want to think about them_, she told her dragon when he sent her a questioning look. _What's done is done. Dwelling on it won't change anything. _

Char nodded and accepted that.

_We'll be arriving in Surda at sunset_, the white dragon said. _What's the plan once we get there? _

Meralaena sighed and forced her mind back to the task in front of them.

_We – or I – will infiltrate the enemy camp and hunt for information. Nasuada wants to know if the troops there are actually planning to take Surda, or if they are just a diversion. Once we know that we can head back. It shouldn't take us more than a couple of days. _

_And what do I do?_ Char asked. _I dislike the idea of you going in alone._

_You wait for me, _Meralaena said. Sensing her dragon's coming protest she said,_ I don't like this plan much either, but you can't exactly fly into the enemy camp. I'll go in alone and infiltrate Galbatorix' troops. You'll just have to wait, and be ready to fly us out if things go wrong. _

Char have a nod of assent. Neither of them liked being separated, but at least it would only be for a few days.

_And we can stay connected,_ Meralaena said. _In fact, we should probably stay in constant communication, for safety reasons. _

_Safety reasons? _Char inquired. _Like Murtagh and Thorn? _

Meralaena sighed,

_Yes. I'm worried about this mission, Char. It doesn't feel right. _

Her dragon didn't respond, unable to sense the unease that was nagging at Meralaena.

_Why so worried?_ He asked her. Meralaena was silent for a time, and Char wondered if even she knew why she was so tense.

_It makes sense that Murtagh and Thorn might be here_, she said eventually. _The Varden scouts haven't seen them, but that doesn't means anything. And if Galbatorix really does mean to attack Surda, it would be logical to have them stationed nearby. _She stopped, deep in thought.

_We'll just have to hope that Galbatorix is using these troops as a diversion,_ Char said.

"Hmm," Meralaena said. "I wonder."

Char hummed softly as they sped over the deserted land below them, flying from the safety of the Varden and into unknown territory.

**I think Mera was PMSing when I wrote this, because she was overly emotional. So there's some more info on her sister for you, as well as some emotion. I thought she was a bit too cold so I added this just to make her more personable. Please tell me what you thought! Reviews make me feel mushy and soft. Thank you all for reading and please drop a review : ) **


	21. Chapter 21

**Hello everyone! My apologies for the late update, my family and I have been away for the past three days. Thank you so much to last chapters reviews; ****XscouselondonerX****, Galby'sapimp, Restrained Freedom and Vesper's Lullaby. You guys make me smile ****:) Ok so I had someone ask why the Varden are still in Tronjhiem, because according to the book's timeline they should have migrated to Surda by this point. ****My answer is simply because keeping it this way was better for the storyline, and it's just easier :) please don't hate me for messing with perfection. Anyway, on with chapter twenty-one :)  
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(Set on the day that Meralaena and Char arrive at the Varden)

Lying on his bed in Uru'baen, Murtagh sighed and let his body relax. His muscles protested the sudden absence of tension after the constant strain. He stared up at the dark, wood-paneled ceiling and tried very hard not to think. He knew where his thoughts would go if he let them wander, so he didn't. No need to think about Meralaena now. It wouldn't change anything, and anyway she –

_No!_ He growled, realizing that his mind had wandered despite his efforts to focus. _Don't think about her._

To distract himself, he thought about the king's plan to conquer Surda. It was a full-scale attack, but Galbatorix was keeping the majority of the troops behind the front lines until the last possible moment. If Surda fell, Galbatorix knew that the Varden would follow.

Murtagh closed his eyes, trying to block the images of a woman with fiery red hair.

_I can't stop thinking about her… _The offense on Surda was scheduled to begin in four days, with Murtagh and Thorn scheduled to leave to reinforce the troops in two. That meant that he and his dragon would be arriving a single day before the siege began. Murtagh did not relish the thought of taking Surda – but as usual, what he wanted had nothing to do with what Galbatorix told him to do.

He groaned as he thought about it and rolled over, wishing he could fall asleep but knowing that he couldn't.

A knock sounded on the door to the room, and he tensed, standing quickly.

"Who is it?" he growled.

"Ruuka," a girl's voice said. "The King wants to see you, my lord." Murtagh swore silently as he crossed the room and yanked the door open. The maid, Ruuka, jumped back in surprise and then curtsied. "He wishes to speak with you about the attack on Surda," she said. Murtagh said nothing for a moment, then muttered,

"Tell him I'm coming."

Ruuka curtsied again and backed away, shutting the door as she did so. The King didn't usually send for him until it was time to leave; something must have changed. Murtagh pulled on his boots and cloak just in case Galbatorix sent him out somewhere immediately, and then buckled on Zar-rock. Absently he glanced over at the mirror standing on the dresser, and jumped back with a yelp of surprise. Meralaena's fire-red hair and cold gray eyes stared out at him for a split second, before the reflection in the mirror once again became his own. He sank down onto the bed and clenched his hands to stop them shaking. It wasn't the first time that that had happened; every day since he'd seen Meralaena in Furnost her face had haunted him. Whether it was in water or a mirror, or even the surface of the polished wood dresser or Zar-rock's shiny blade, he kept seeing her. No wonder it was so hard to stop thinking about her. Brushing the incident aside, he stood and left the room, trying to avoid looking directly at any shiny surfaces as he made his way to the throne room.

Three minutes later he stopped outside the tall, dark doors. He braced himself and pushed them open. Galbatorix was sitting on his high-backed throne, a frown on his face and his black-bladed sword in his hands.

"My lord," Murtagh said, spitting the honorific between clenched teeth, "you wanted to see me?"

Galbatorix glanced up.

"Yes. I want to initiate the attack on Surda early. My spies have reported that the woman and the dragon have reached the Varden, and I suspect that they will head out again to support king Orrin's troops on the border." Here he paused, and Murtagh waited, desperately hoping that he wouldn't be ordered to fight Meralaena again.

_And this time she'll have a dragon_, Thorn said. Murtagh nodded but didn't bother explaining that her increase in strength was not the reason he wished to avoid fighting her. Galbatorix spoke again, and Murtagh shuddered at the sound of his voice.

"Fly to Surda and back up the troops," the king ordered. "I am sending you ahead of schedule."

Murtagh groaned inwardly but let nothing show on his face. Wordlessly he nodded and turned to leave.

"Oh and, Murtagh," the king said, "If you see the new rider, I want you to offer her a position with us. If she rejects the opportunity to join us, do your best to kill her and her dragon."

Murtagh felt like the air had been knocked out of him. He wanted to say no, but his lips refused to form the word.

"Yes, my lord," he ground out. Galbatorix, however, wasn't satisfied with that.

"Swear it," he growled. Murtagh whitened; if he swore in the ancient language, he'd be forced to battle Meralaena until one of them died.

"Is that really necessary?" the younger rider asked, hoping to gain time.

A cruel smile flitted across Galbatorix' lips.

"Yes," he responded. "Now swear that you will either convert the rider or kill her."

Murtagh was backed into a corner and he knew it. He clenched his teeth against the words that his bonds were forcing him to speak. He wanted to run, wanted to fight back, wanted to do anything but what was asked of him; but then he found himself speaking the two fateful words in the Ancient Language, his previous bonds forcing the words passed his lips against his will.

"I swear."

**Thanks to everybody who read and enjoyed this :) reviews are amazing. Reviews are like fudge-covered chocolate cake, only better. Or lollypops. Or candy apples. Or… well you get the picture. **

**There once was a man named Choo**

**Who didn't send a review **

**So Rose got sad **

**And then she got mad **

**Because Choo didn't do as she said. **

**If you do not review, I will not get mad. But I will be sad. So please review :) thanks so everyone who has reviewed and read up till this point, you guys are awesome! **


	22. Chapter 22

**Hola! I want to personally thank my reviewers from last chapter; Restrained Freedom, Vesper's Lullaby, XscounselondonerX, tripplefrozen, Galby'sapimp and my first-time reviewer and new reader (I hope) Virus Animus Sapientia. You guys keep me going with your encouragement :) here is chapter twenty-two, please enjoy. **

Meralaena crouched behind a rocky outcropping, peering out. Only about a hundred years ahead, tents bearing the empire's colors disfigured the landscape. She crouched lower, every muscle in her body tense.

She could sense Char watching her from afar, where he'd opted to wait in order to avoid being seen by the soldiers.

_Okay_, she said to Char. _I'm going in. I'll try to stay in contact with you, but if for some reason I can't and I don't come back out in two days, come get me. _

With that she stood and left the shelter of the rocks. Char rumbled uneasily but didn't complain about the arrangement.

_Be safe, small one_, he said.

Meralaena didn't reply with words, but she sent him a reassuring surge of confidence that meant something close to, _don't worry, I can do this_.

A shout sounded from within the camp; she'd been seen. Meralaena kept her face neutral and her expression blank as soldiers swarmed out of their tents and came to see what the fuss was about. The man who had sounded the alarm, a scout it looked like, disappeared among the tents to inform his superiors.

Meralaena straightened her shoulders and smoothed the knee-high skirt that she'd forced herself into. It was a deep green and rather pretty as skirts went, but she'd never been one for anything but pants. Her shirt was pale beige and the loose, elbow-length sleeves had green embroidery sewn onto them in an intricate leafy pattern. Her hair was down, and had taken a variation from its usual wavy state to hang straight down her back. Without the curls the burgundy locks hung to her waist, and Meralaena had forgone the usual restraining band, leaving the strands free to float around her face. Her boots were knee-high and brown, made of soft leather.

Her gaze swept over the approaching men, and a laugh rose in her throat at the looks on their faces. Some were suspicious, some were nervous, some were angry, but most looked a little stunned. She must look better than she though; she'd tried to go for something that wasn't overly fancy, but judging by the fact that Meralaena had had to steal the garments from a local seamstress due to her lack of money and woman's clothing, there hadn't been much selection. And her hair had done the strait thing completely on its own; Meralaena hadn't wanted to trying to tame the mass, which was more of a straight curtain at the moment, so she had pretty much just let it go. Judging by the dazed looks on the soldier's faces, the effect was rather stunning.

A few soldiers began to approach her, so she walked forward to meet them.

"Greetings, she called. "I am Misa Tora'sdaughter, I have been assigned here for cooking duty."

"Cooking duty?" one of the younger men said, eyeing her. "You don't look like a housewife."

Meralaena hissed under her breath. No matter what she dressed like, she had known that convincing these people wasn't going to be easy – there had always been something about her that kept humans from believing that she was one of them. Some remnant of her power that shone though her attempts to conceal it that leaked though and warned mortals that she was different. Still, these soldiers were logical men; they would believe their eyes, not their intuition.

"Being a housewife was not one of the task's requirements," Meralaena said with an edge to her voice. "I am unmarried and simply desire to assist in the war effort."

_Careful…_ she heard Char mutter.

"Well in that case," one of the men, a lieutenant it looked like, said with a smile. "Allow me to show you to your assignment. You're dismissed, men."

The group of soldier muttered unhappily but had no choice but to disperse, casting Meralaena curious glances. She sighed in relief; the first hurdle was over.

"What was your name again?" the man said. "Misa?"

"Yes," Meralaena replied. "And who am I addressing?"

"Lieutenant Thon of Dras Leonas," he replied. "But you can cal me Thon, sugar."

Meralaena sent him an icy look at the nickname which went unheeded.

As Thon led her to the main kitchen area, Meralaena kept a sharp look out for anything that might be important. Where the main storage areas were, the armory, the food bins and anything else that might remotely affect her mission. Thon chatted to her about the kitchen duties and other meaningless things, which Meralaena didn't pay attention to but kept tabs on.

"Here we are," the lieutenant said, gesturing to a large tent, from which the smell of fresh bread was emanating. "This is the main cooking station. The headmistress's name is Aloa. She'll assign you."

"Thank you," Meralaena responded, before leaving Thon at the entrance and pushing her way into the tent. The inside was messy, disorganized and very, very busy. Four or five woman were bustling about performing various tasks, and steam and smoke rose from boiling pots and ovens respectively. More people hurried in and out of the tents, carrying various items from one place to another.

"What a mess," Meralaena commented. It was true – the entire inside of the tent was a hive of chaos.

"Who are you?" a cranky voice snapped from behind her.

Meralaena tensed for a fraction of a second before forcing her stiff shoulders to relax. She turned to find a short, middle-aged woman glaring up at her. The woman was only around fifty, but her hair was snow white and her face was lined and worn.

"Misa Tora'sdaughter. I've just been assigned here."

"Misa, eh? Well, if you're here then you might as well start working," the woman said. "Rebecca and Beyna can use some help with the bread." Aloa lead Meralaena over to a tale near one of the ovens where two women were busy kneading bread and shaping it into loaves. They stopped working as Meralaena and Aloa approached.

"Hello ma'am," one of them said. She was tall – almost as tall as Meralaena – and had dark brown hair and striking green eyes. She was very pretty, and Meralaena guessed that she couldn't be over twenty-two years of age. She offered Meralaena a hesitant smile, which the Grey Folk returned reservedly. The human's dark hair was curly and hung in a tangled waterfall down to her shoulder blades, and despite her obvious fatigue, her eyes glinted with mischief and life.

The other didn't speak, and she gazed at Meralaena cautiously. She was older than the first woman, about thirty-five, and had light brown hair that was almost blonde, topped by large, oval eyes. They were a dull blue, a very common but pretty color, and her face was haggard and tired. She seemed more serious than her companion, and her eyes were a mixture of worry and sadness.

"Hello Beyna," the headmistress replied. "This is Misa Tora'sdaughter, she will be working with you. Misa, this is Beyna," she gestured to the green-eyed one, "and Rebecca," she indicated the older, brown-haired one. "Show her the ropes, ladies."

"Yes Ma'am," they both replied. Aloa scurried off to attend to something else, her worried frown plastered on her face with what looked like permanent intensity.

"Hello," Meralaena said, offering the proper curtsy, which the two mirrored.

"Hello," Beyna replied warmly. "We're glad to have you, the work load had gotten much worse lately so we can really use another pair of hands."

"Glad to be of help," Meralaena replied automatically.

She listened as Beyna explained the basics of working in the kitchen, but her attention was elsewhere. Rebecca hung around near them but did not speak; Meralaena got the feeling that the human woman was not one for talking excessively. Beyna, on the other hand, chattered constantly about everything from cooking duties to the new captain of squad seven, whom she apparently thought was very handsome. Meralaena spoke little, and with mild surprise realized that she quite liked the younger human. Having someone who talked enough for two made it easier to think, and listening to another girl's chatter somehow made her feel more normal. Not only that, but Beyna often had insightful things to say amidst the meaningless noise.

It was difficult to concentrate with Beyna's relentless talk, true, but it gave Meralaena a chance to talk with Char while adding an occasional nod as the conversation with Beyna demanded. Meralaena learned how to make dough, shape it and cook it all in the course of twenty minutes.

All the while she talked with her dragon.

_Do you know what you're going to do after you're done here?_ Char asked.

_Make my way to the headquarters and do some snooping_, she replied. _Maybe spy on the commanders for a bit. _

_Sounds good, _he replied. _Are you sure you can manage it without being caught? _

_Oh please, _Meralaena told her dragon. _If I can break into Uru'Baen and steal you, I can spy on some low-ranking officers. This'll be easy. _

_Then why are you worried? _Char asked, reading her emotions again. Meralaena's eyes widened in surprise before she carefully controlled her expression for Beyna's benefit.

_I'm not worried, _She replied. _More sort of… Well, I guess I am a bit worried. _

_Still thinking about Murtagh? _Char asked. Meralaena winced at the feelings that name brought up and nodded, then remembered that Char couldn't see her, while Beyna could. Meralaena ignored the strange glance Beyna sent her and answered simply,

_Yes. I can't stop thinking about what might be happening to him. _

_You should stop thinking about him, _Char counseled. _I know you care about him, but this constant worry and distraction is unlike you. It's taking your mind off the task at hand. _

_No it isn't! _Meralaena snapped instinctively. _Sorry, _she said a moment later. _You're right, and that was uncalled for. Murtagh _is_ distracting me from my job. _

Char was quiet for a moment. Then he said,

_I'm glad you realize it. The first step in fixing a problem is knowing that you have one. You must do your best to banish the red rider from your heart and mind, at least for now._

Meralaena sighed internally, but she knew that her dragon was right. She just wasn't sure if she was strong enough – strong enough to pull away emotionally, and to do what had to be done. No, she wasn't sure at all.

**If you have any ideas or things you want to see happen, drop a review and let me know now, because they're only about five chapters left. I want to thank everybody who has been reading this, as well as everyone who has reviewed/alerted/favourited. I wasn't expecting to get this much support for this story, so thank you :) I know I've said this time and time again, but your feedback means so much to me, so please drop a review :) thank you for reading! **


	23. Chapter 23

**Thank you, Restrained Freedom, ShatterTheHeavens, Princess Arya, ESMT and XscounselondonerX, for all your lovely reviews. And thanks to the two people who alerted/favourited as well, you guys are all great :) I'm sorry for the lateness of my update, I just… forgot… I feel really guilty. Ah well, my apologies. Here is the (late) twenty-third chapter.**

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><p>"Misa, is something bothering you?" Beyna asked in response to Meralaena's worried frown.<p>

"What? Oh, um – No, I'm fine," Meralaena replied hastily.

"Are you sure?" Beyna asked. "You look a little distracted. You know if something's wrong, you can talk to me about it."

Meralaena smiled.

"I'm fine, really. You were telling me about the squad seven captain, what was his name?" Beyna grinned and continued on her rant.

"Anmir, he's very handsome. He's got these sparkling blue eyes, I've never seen a brighter blue. And his hair is so _black_… Not to mention the fact that he's totally gorgeous."

Meralaena zoned out again as her companion continued rambling. She sensed that Char was nearby, but he did not speak again.

At the end of the day, Meralaena and Beyna bit farewell to Rebecca and left for the tents.

"This is where the younger women sleep," Beyna said as they approached a separate area. The tents here were slightly smaller than the ones the troops used, but Meralaena guessed that they needed to fit far fewer people.

"There are only about a hundred of us here in total," Beyna said, echoing Meralaena's thoughts. "This area houses twenty-five. You'll be rooming with me and a few others, if that's okay with you."

"That's fine," Meralaena replied. "But I'm not going to sleep yet."

"Oh?" Beyna asked. "It was a long day, I thought for sure you'd be tired."

"I am," Meralaena lied. "But I want to take a look around first. I'll be back before it's too late."

"Well, alright then," Beyna said. "Just…"

"What is it?"

"Be careful," Beyna said. "I know we're all on the same side here, but some of the men can get a little rowdy. You should try to stay where there are other people around."

"Alright," Meralaena said. "Thanks for the warning."

Meralaena and Beyna went their separate ways. Beyna headed to the tents, presumably to get some sleep, and Meralaena wandered down the rows of tents, looking for the central camp where the leaders would be.

Meralaena was tense as she walked. Her shoulders were tight, and her hand never strayed from her left hip, where she had stowed one of her knives. Her right boot also held a concealed weapon – a tiny dagger that she had picked up in Tronjeim. The blade was no longer than six inches and very thin – small enough to fit into a lock, but long enough to reach a man's heart. The hilt was simple wood wrapped in tiny leather strips. Her senses felt magnified, like they were ten times stronger than usual. She sighed, and the air whispering past her lips sounded as loud as an approaching windstorm.

_You won't get anywhere if you're tense like that_, Char said, suddenly popping up in Meralaena's mind. His rider, already worried, startled violently.

_Char! _She said reproachfully. _Don't startle me like that!_

_What? _Her dragon said with false innocence. _You're jumpy. You've got this under control – why are you so worried? _

_I'm always worried, _the Grey Folk replied. _It makes no difference what about. _

_Well it should, _Char said. _For instance, if you're worried about the mission succeeding, or about Galbatorix invading Surda, that's fine. If, however, you're worried about a certain rider… _

"Stop it," Meralaena whispered out loud.

_What? _Char said, thrown off by the apparent randomness of the statement.

"I said stop it," Meralaena repeated. "Stop talking. If I am worried about Murtagh, it is my own business. It will not effect the mission or my ability to carry it out." Char was quiet after that, although Meralaena could sense that he did not fully agree with her assessment. In truth, Meralaena was not all that sure herself – but there was nothing to do but ignore the worry.

Soon the tents that she was passing became larger, and the linens finer. Eventually the tents stopped altogether and gave way to proper – if temporary – houses. They were sizable and not overly luxurious, but they definitely belonged to men of higher rank, which meant that Meralaena was going in the right direction. There were fewer people out in this area, and it was much quieter. The absence of loud noises and rowdy drinkers did not ease Meralaena's nerves, but rather grated on them with increasing ferocity.

A sudden whispering of cloth made Meralaena tense, but it was only a soldier coming out of his house up one of the rows. Meralaena berated herself for her jumpiness and slid into a shadow to watch the man. His clothes were different from the other soldiers she's seen, including the lieutenant, and he wore a deep red sash with Galbatorix's emblem stitched into it.

_Gotcha_, Meralaena thought. _Now take me to your leader, little human. _The soldier glanced back to where she's been standing, as if suspicious of something, and then shrugged and turned to walk in the opposite direction. Meralaena left her shadow and moved to another in a brief sprint, so quickly and quietly that to any observer, it would appear that a shadow had flickered, nothing more. She continued after him in this manner.

_Why don't you just cast an invisibility charm? _Char asked.

_Because this is more fun, _Meralaena replied. Char huffed at that but didn't push it.

The man continued down the lane between the houses. Soon another soldier wearing the same uniform joined him, and then three more joined the two of them. They didn't speak, which Meralaena thought was a little odd, but she didn't dare take a look in their minds in case any of them had rudimentary training in spellcasting. The last one to join the group triggered something in Meralaena's memory from earlier that day. He was in his late twenties with dark hair and bright blue eyes. He was actually quite good-looking for a human, Meralaena reflected. And with that, it clicked.

Anmir.

_Char, I think this is the captain that Beyna was telling me about! _Meralaena thought. _He certainly matches her description perfectly. _

_Yes, he does, _Char replied. _And black hair and blue eyes are a pretty uncommon combination, so I doubt that it's someone else. _

_So do I, _Meralaena said_. Thank you, Beyna. _

Meralaena followed the captains to what appeared to be the center of the encampment, a large, white pavilion with Galbatori'x colors and standard. There were lights on inside, and quiet murmuring reached Meralaena's sensitive ears. She got closer to the entrance and then situated herself behind a few large, wooden barrels to listen. She closed her eyes and concentrated.

"… on the western front. But if we attack them directly, there's a good chance that they'll be able to repel our advance troops." The first voice Meralaena heard was an old one, probably a seasoned warrior.

"And don't forget their rider," another man interjected.

"Yes, the rider," the older voice said. "We will have Murtagh and Thorn for this offensive – word has it that they've been deployed early – but if the Varden's rider is on the front lines then the two pairs will take care of each other. That leaves the actual taking of Surda to us ordinary soldiers."

"So it's definite then?" a younger voice asked. "The Emperor wants us to invade?"

"Aye," someone else replied quietly. "The Emperor is finally making his move against Surda."

_That's it, _Char said. _Now let's get out of here and warn Nasuada and Orrin! _

_Wait, _Meralaena said. _Any additional information may be pivotal in the upcoming invasion. We should learn as much as possible. _

_I don't like it, _Char said as the men continued speaking. _They said that Murtagh and Thorn have been deployed early. So what does that mean? They might be here soon! _

_I know, _Meralaena replied, _but everything we learn here will save Varden lives. We can't leave yet._

Char grumbled but didn't protest again. Meralaena turned her attention back to the men's conversation, but she did keep a wary eye on the skies.

She listened for another twenty minutes but hear nothing of special consequence – the formation of the attacking troops, where the archers would be stationed, how many supplies they had and the like. The real shock came for her when Char suddenly shouted,

_Meralaena! Thorn's here! _

"Where? Come get me, we'll -" she broke off in dread as she saw Thorn barreling down on her dragon through Char's eyes.

_Too late, _he said as the ruby dragon closed, now mere yards away. _You'll have to get here on your own. _

_Char! _She shouted as she felt Thorn crash into the smaller dragon, knocking him backwards. _I'm coming! _Meralaena jumped to her feet, her hand unconsciously gripping the hilt of her dagger.

"I don't care whose dragon you are," she snarled at Thorn under her breath. "If you hurt Char I will rip you apart piece by piece." She whirled and had just taken two steps towards Char when she felt another presence, further up the row of tents. The feel of the person's mind was unmistakable – Murtagh. She couldn't see him yet, but there was no way that she would mistake that presence, a presence that she knew almost as well as her own.

_He's here._

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><p><strong>And there it is. The final chapters are coming up! Unfortunately with school starting I may be updating less frequently, my apologies in advance. Reviews are… Well, you all know how I feel about reviews. So please review! :D I won't be updating next Saturday, but I promise I will have a chapter ready for the Saturday after that. But if I get lots of reviews, maybe I will be able to write faster. *hint hint* Hehehe… Please review, and thank you so much for reading!<strong>


	24. Chapter 24

**It's a miracle, I managed to update on time! I was very pleased with the lovely reviews I got for last chapter, you guys are so nice to me… I want to extend my personal thanks to Retrained Freedom, ShatterTheHeavens, Princess Arya, ESMT, Vesper's Lullaby, Galby'sapimp, Eragonfan, Korkman2 and XscounselondonerX. You guys are the only reason I keep at this, so thank you all :) I was having some trouble writing this chapter, so be forewarned, it's only about 1,500 words, which is a bit short for me. My apologies, the next chapter will be longer. So here is chapter 24, enjoy!**

Meralaena whirled and had just taken two steps towards Char when she felt another presence, further up the row of tents. The feel of the person's mind was unmistakable – Murtagh. She couldn't see him yet, but there was no way that she would mistake that presence, a presence that she knew almost as well as her own.

_He's here. Aw crap, _Meralaena thought briefly. _How did he get this close without my noticing? _She couldn't see him yet, so she turned the opposite way and bolted, running at full speed, trusting her superior physical abilities to give her the advantage. The tents were a blur around her, and soon she was out of the encampment. She changed direction and circled around the area where she'd felt Murtagh, heading once again for the two dragons. Meralaena stopped and concentrated, searching for Murtagh with both her hearing and her mind. Nothing. That was odd, she reflected; now that she knew he was here it should be easy to pinpoint his location. She pushed that away for a moment as she reached out to Char.

_Char, are you all right?_ His reply was faint and long in coming.

_For now. Thorn is very strong. You should hurry, rider; we are strongest together. _A flash of movement caught Meralaena's eye, and when she spoke again the words were laced with some unidentifiable emotion.

_Can you not use your magic? _

_I could, _Char replied as he dodged an attack from Thorn, _but do we really want the enemy to know that I am different from other dragons? _

_No choice, _Meralaena responded, her eyes on the man that had materialized before her. _You may have to use your powers. I have Murtagh to deal with here. _Out loud she asked,

"How did you keep up with me? Even elves can't match that level of speed." Standing on the other side of the sizable field that they found themselves on, Murtagh swung Zar-Rock in his hands.

"One of the King's enchantments," he responded. "It increases my speed by six hundred percent."

_Six hundred percent? That means that his speed is five times that of the average human, and about twice the speed of an elf. Which means that he might be able to match me. Where speed is concerned, anyway. _

"A spell like that had got to take an enormous amount of energy to maintain," Meralaena stalled. "As well as being hard on you. Humans weren't meant to be that fast – and a spell that changes the natural order of things must be taking a toll on your body."

Murtagh's eyes narrowed slightly, and Meralaena knew she'd hit it. If he kept operating at that level of speed, it was only a matter of time before his body broke from the strain.

"Is Galbatorix really that desperate to get his hands on Char and I?" she wondered aloud. Murtagh didn't answer her rhetorical question.

"The King has a proposal for you," Murtagh said. Meralaena sniffed in derision.

"Oh, I'm sure he does. Let me guess; he wants us to join him, and in return he won't kill us. No offense, but that's so ridiculous it's almost funny." Murtagh's teeth came together in frustration, and Meralaena nearly smirked.

"You are correct, those are his terms," Murtagh ground out. "However, there is one more thing – if you refuse, Thorn and I have sworn to do our utmost to kill both you and your dragon."

Meralaena's smirk fell as an awful sense of destiny, of finality descended.

_No. _

So, this was it. The moment when one of them would have to die.

_Please, no. _

Meralaena would have to kill him. As she stared into his deep, dark eyes, she knew that she would have to either kill him or be killed by him. She wasn't sure which option was less appealing.

_You know, we could always… No!_ Meralaena crushed the thought before it could fully form, but the sentence finished itself in some dark corner of her mind. _We could always go with them. Murtagh and I wouldn't have to fight anymore – we could be together. I would never have to watch someone who matters die again. Is fighting for Galbatorix really such a bad thing if it means that I don't have to lose the man I love? _

_MERALAENA! _Char's shout was so loud she gasped out loud, hands flying up to her ears even though the sound was inside her head. _I do not and will not accept that course of action! You are Meralaena Zaalefrin, last of the Grey Folk and princess of a nation that once ruled this earth! You are part of the race that reshaped magic itself. Do not dishonor your species or yourself for the love of a man! Remember your purpose! Remember your friends! Think about Eragon and Saphira, and Nasuada. They would give their lives to free Alagaesia from the curse of tyranny. _

Meralaena's eyes widened, and her eyes snapped back up to Murtagh. _You're right_, she told her dragon after a moment. _Thank you. I needed you to snap me out of it. _

"Clever, isn't he?" she said aloud. "Galbatorix." Suspicion did a little dance across Murtagh's features; he wasn't sure what she was playing at. "He knows you can't beat me," she said in explanation. "He also knows that I care for you."

"He knows nothing about us," Murtagh snapped. "I have at least managed to conceal that much."

"Have you?" Meralaena wondered aloud. "The king is not a fool. He would not have been able to gain and hold his position as Emperor if he was."

"What are you saying?" Murtagh demanded, his orders to kill the woman before him momentarily on hold.

"I'm saying that he knows more than you think," Meralaena replied. "At any rate, your current orders present something of a problem for us."

Meralaena knew instinctively that restraining him and fleeing would not work twice – Galbatorix would have prepared for that tactic. Besides, she was tired of running away from Murtagh and what she felt. Time to settle this impossible game.

"Come one then," he grated. The words pained him, but not as much as the coming battle. Murtagh hated everything about the current situation, but there was precious little he could do about it. Against his will his hand moved to Zar-rock's hilt and drew the red blade. Meralaena's eyes narrowed, but she didn't draw a weapon yet. She would have preferred to fight with her sword Faelevrin, but she'd left it behind because she couldn't hide it well enough; luckily she's brought her daggers along. Murtagh's grip on Zar-rock tightened, and he shifted to the left. Meralaena shifted with him, while at the same time strengthening the barriers around her mind.

"You know, it's funny, in a sick kind of way," Murtagh said. "I was hoping that perhaps what I felt for you would be enough to change my name and free me from Galbatorix. I guess it just wasn't enough. We don't know each other well enough yet for that to work, and now it's too late."

_What he feels for me?_ Meralaena's thoughts echoed. The words brought a pang of happiness, and with it a much sharper pang of pain. _Knowing that he feels something too isn't much good now, _Meralaena thought in an attempt to cut herself off from her emotions. _I have to do something. Things can't end like this! They can't! _Her thoughts went on that way for a few frantic seconds, buzzing around the inside of her head like irritated hornets. _Unless… I could always use __**it**__… but only as a last result. I still don't know what would happen if I did use it. _

_Meralaena! _Char broke in. _Concentrate! _Meralaena focused again with difficulty.

_Right. Thanks. How's your battle going? _

_Worry about your own battle, _Char replied. _I am fine. _Meralaena caught a brief glimpse of Thorn's angry red eyes and bloodied front left leg through Char's eyes and sighed in relief. She knew that if Char had been hit, she would've sensed it.

_Be careful. _

_And you, rider. _

"You know," Meralaena spoke to the younger rider again, "I had hoped the same thing. I had hoped that maybe – just maybe – any feelings you had for me would have changed your true name. Because I know it changed mine."

Murtagh's eyes widened in shock, and even Char radiated surprise.

"It changed your true name?" Murtagh repeated, as if unsure that he had heard correctly.

"Yes," she replied, "_you _did. When I was born twenty-five hundred years ago my true name was the same as anyone's - a reflection of my soul, words in the Ancient Language that laid out who I was. But then my kind went extinct, and it changed to something much darker, much sadder. It stays that way for…" here she broke off, unsure of how long it had actually been. "Well, it stays that way for hundreds of years. And it would have always stayed that way, if I hadn't started to care for you."

A strange feeling was beginning to gather in Murtagh's throat, but he shoved it away.

"I love you," Meralaena whispered, the words so soft that Murtagh hardly heard them. "I have since I first saw you in Uru'baen, since I first dreamed of you. And I'm sorry, but if I can't change your true name, then…" Meralaena hesitated, gathering her resolve, making sure she was strong enough. "Then I'm going to have to kill you!"

**Forgive me, another cliffy. Well, not really, sort of… ah well. School has started for me, so I might have trouble finding time to write the next chapter… please review! I got a terrible case of writer's block this week, and I want you all to know that without your encouragement I wouldn't have been able to get this chapter out so soon. Reviews will make the next chapter come out sooner, as well. Thanks to everybody who had been reading and reviewing, you guys keep me smiling and writing! See you… hopefully this Saturday. Ta ta for now! **


	25. Chapter 25

**Hi everyone! I'm really rushed right now so I don't have much time but I'll include everyone who reviewed last chapter in the next chapter's thank you. Aah! My ride is leaving for camp! I gotta go!**

Meralaena reached into one of her sleeves and withdrew not a weapon, but a short, thick scroll. Confusion crossed Murtagh's features briefly.

"What is that?" he growled. Meralaena looked back at him from the scroll, and he was surprised to see a small smile tugging at her lips.

"This," she said mysteriously, as if revealing a great secret, "is the key out of this mess."

"I thought you said you were going to kill me?" Murtagh cast her a questioning glance.

"I said that if I could not change your true name, I would kill you," she corrected. "I never said I was finished trying."

Suspicion did a dance across Murtagh's features, quickly followed by wariness.

"And what witchcraft have you devised this time?" he inquired darkly.

"What if I told you," Meralaena said, "that I had found a way to break the oaths tying you and Thorn to Galbatorix?"

The air whooshed out of Murtagh's lungs as a sudden surge of hope, almost painful in its intensity, swept through him. His eyes widened, but he was proud of himself for not allowing any other visible reaction. The short sentence from Meralaena had thrown his thoughts and emotions into a whirlwind of confusion – so much so that his dragon became concerned.

_Murtagh, what is wrong? _The red dragon asked his rider.

_Nothing's wrong. It's… _Murtagh trailed off, unable to complete the thought of the possibility that Meralaena had just presented to him. _It's fine. More than fine, things are… _again he left the sentence unfinished_. Just concentrate on your fight, _he eventually said.

Murtagh cut himself off from his dragon and switched his attention back to the Grey Folk before him, still unsure if she meant to attack him or not. The feeling of absolute shock was still prominent, and somehow Murtagh found himself unable to doubt Meralaena's claim; after all, what would she gain by lying to him now? And anyhow, she knew the pain he went through every day serving Galbatorix. Murtagh had a gut feeling that Meralaena wasn't the kind of person to dangle hope in front of someone's face only to snatch it away. No, if she said that she had devised a spell that would free him and his dragon from Galbatorix, then he had no doubt that she had.

"How?" he managed. "When? A spell like that would take… flawless knowledge of the Ancient Language, as well as time to compose it. Not to mention the sheer amount of magical energy it would require!"

"How?" Meralaena repeated. "With a lot of thought, effort and hard work. As for when… I'm assuming that your scouts informed you and Galbatorix that Char and I got safely to the Varden?"

"They did," Murtagh answered through tight lips. Meralaena's own lips tilted upward in a slight smile.

"I had a full twenty-four hours there. I asked Arya and Eragon to help me with the wording and practical application of a spell that would break a bond made by using someone's true name against them. At first they both swore it was impossible, but it turns out that when you look at the problem logically, the biggest problem is not having enough energy available to complete the incantation. That and having to get the wording correct or risk blowing yourself up. It took a lot of wheedling on my part, but I convinced them to help me. Arya was incredulous, and Eragon only helped me because he said he wanted to help you. We worked solid for a good twenty-two hours and ended up with this." Meralaena held up the scroll again. "And as an additional part of this spell, I managed to come up with something that _should _preventGalbatorix from simply re-enslaving you using your true name. Basically, if this spell works correctly, it will render you invulnerable to control and influence by use of your true name."

"But that's…" Murtagh stopped, going over everything he knew about the Ancient Language and its rules in his head to make sure his assessment was correct before speaking it. "That's impossible, even for you. You may have insane amounts of energy and stamina, and you're incredible strong, but even you can't work against the laws of magic."

"Can't I?" Meralaena countered with a hard glint in her eye. "My kind wrote the laws of magic, Murtagh. I am allowed to make changes."

Murtagh blanched, unsettled. He stared hard at Meralaena and the icy, determined look in her eye, as he fully understood for the first time exactly who he was dealing with. Granted, he had known before hand that Meralaena was a Grey Folk, but having an example of that fact thrust at him sent a shiver of apprehension and something else up the younger rider's spine. It was thrilling yet terrifying, being so close to a being so old and so powerful.

Murtagh was about to speak again when his head was suddenly split in two by a surge of agony. The pain was unexpected and all consuming, blocking out everything else. Logical thought fled his mind, leaving only raw pain. Somewhere in a tiny corner of his mind he registered that he had fallen to his knees, but his entire being was caught up in the agony of pain, reminiscent of fire, that was lancing through his body. Then, from somewhere amidst the anguish, a horribly familiar voice spoke.

_You fool! What are you doing? I ordered you to kill that dirty whore! WHAT ARE YOU DOING, HAVING A LITTLE CHIT-CHAT? _Murtagh's back arched as the agony spiked. _Useless puppy! Is there anything you have not failed me in? _

From her vantage point, Meralaena watched in horror as Murtagh dropped to his knees, bestial screams escaping his lips and a crazed, tortured look in his eyes. He fell to his side and thrashed, back arching, still emitting the agonized cries.

"Galbatorix," Meralaena breathed in realization. "Galbatorix is doing this."

Inside Murtagh's head, the black king's voice was still raging.

_I ordered you to either convert her or kill her. Not to betray me in a worthless attempt to free yourself and that rat you call a dragon! I should kill you for this! _The pain suddenly ceased as suddenly as it had begun, leaving Murtagh gasping for air. _However, _the king hissed, _You are in the right place and I am not. I could possess you, but I think it will be enjoyable to watch you fight this woman in a battle to the death. This woman who says she loves you, and who, if I detect the emoti__on correctly, you love in return._ Murtagh lay panting on his back, legs bunched uncomfortably underneath him and his heart racing at a rate that must have been unhealthy.

"Please…" he croaked. "Not… Not her. Please, don't make me do this."

_Are you questioning me, boy? _

"I – no! But Meralaena…"

_The woman is an enemy. Dispose of her as such. If you can. _

"Get out!" someone shouted, effectively breaking in. Murtagh looked up in shock to see Meralaena, eyes wild and red hair a mess, glaring at him. "Get out!" she screamed again.

"What?" Murtagh replied oh-so-intelligently.

"Galbatorix," Meralaena snarled in a tone so soft and so deadly it sent shudders down Murtagh's spine. "Get out of his head _right now!" _

_What's this? _The king said, the first real spark of interest forming in his mind. _You can hear me, woman?_

"Of course I can hear you," she snapped. "I have been using magic and invading people's minds since before your great-great-great-great grandfather was born. I can hear you."

_I see, _Galbatorix replied. _I suppose you are not an ordinary opponent then. Good. If I'm lucky, you and this brat will kill each other for me. _

Meralaena's sea-gray eyes widened in surprise at the casual statement, mirrored by Murtagh's dark ones.

_Enough of this, _Galbatorix said. _I do not have all day. I must go and give the order for the troops to move on Surda. _

_Surda, _Meralaena thought with a sinking feeling in her stomach. She still hadn't contacted Nasuada – if the troops moved, Surda would probably fall before the Varden's troops could get there to back them up.

"No," she whispered. Then louder, "Don't give the order!"

_Oh? _The voice like dirt shifting in the grave spoke again, making Meralaena want to step back. _What would you do to prevent me? Join us, perhaps?_

Meralaena's stomach dropped. There it was again – the chance to join the evil she fought, the chance to be on the same side as Murtagh. And as much as she wanted the latter, she knew it wasn't worth the former. What really concerned her at the moment was Surda – if she let him give the order to move out, Meralaena estimated that she would have about half a day before the fighting actually started.

_Half a day, _Meralaena thought distantly, her eyes slightly glazed. _That's enough time to perform the spell to free Murtagh. But with Galbatorix interfering, things are more complicated. And there is the problem of the Empire invading Surda… I can't let it happen without warning them. But I can't warn them and stay here! And I cannot join Galbatorix to stop the attack; more people would die with me as their enemy than if Galbatorix invades Surda. _Meralaena was dragged away from her erratic thoughts by the king's impatient demand.

_Well? What will it be, woman?_

Meralaena looked at him inside Murtagh, grey eyes cold and emotionless.

"My name," she snarled softly, "Is Meralaena. And you can dig a pit in hell and burn in it."

Meralaena saw a shadow pass over Murtagh's face as she gave her refusal, but she refused to all herself to think about him. She may have loved him, but there was more to war than love.

_Fine, _Galbatorix hissed darkly. _Murtagh! _Said man flinched at his master's call. _Kill her. Do not let her perform the spell. Do not speak with her further or do anything related to changing your true name. I want you to attack her with everything you've got, and I want you to do it immediately. And don't come back or contact me until she is dead, do you understand? _

Murtagh pushed himself to his knees shakily, still not completely recovered.

"I understand."

_Swear you will obey. _

"I…" Murtagh stopped as he fought the words being forced from his lips. He clenched his teeth against them, but just as they had in Uru'Baen, the two words ripped themselves from his lips in the Ancient Language totally against his will. "I swear that I will obey. I will kill the new rider or be killed by her."

Meralaena and Murtagh both felt the sadistic glee coming from Galbatorix at the proclamation; Murtagh could almost see the satisfied smirk that the king was probably wearing.

Without warning the dark, brooding presence vanished from Murtagh's mind, leaving him alone in the field with Meralaena and his renewed orders to kill her. It was totally dark by this point, and all was quiet from the direction of the soldier's encampment. For a moment they just stood there, gazing at each other. Absolute silence fell, as if nature it's self was holding its breath. Meralaena stared at Murtagh and saw a cacophony of agony in his dark, beautiful eyes, accompanied by a deep, soul-wrenching sadness. Murtagh stared back and saw the conflict written all over Meralaena's face, an age-old conflict of which he was the center. The moment of silence was broken as Murtagh's orders came into effect, forcing his hand to tighten around d Zar-roc's hilt, his arm raising the blood red blade.

Meralaena's eyes narrowed slightly at the movement, and she tensed visibly.

_Can I immobilize him and then perform the spell to free him? _She wondered. _No. I don't have the energy for both – I don't even know if I have enough energy to do the one. Changing someone's true name is impossible by definition – if I try it, it could kill me. _She looked across the small plain that would become a battlefield and into Murtagh's eyes. _There's nothing for it. I'll have to fight him and try the spell later. If I do it now he'll only be forced to attack sooner, and with more force. _

Murtagh moved from his ready position, oaths forcing him close the distance between him and Meralaena before taking a swing with Zar'roc. Meralaena saw the movement while he was still far away and in one deft movement, replaced the small scroll still in her hand to its original place in her sleeve. In the same movement she smoothly drew her two daggers, one from a strap on each upper arm, hidden beneath the fabric of her shirt. By the time Murtagh got there she was ready.

Meralaena blocked the swing with her two knives, forming an X and locking at the hilts to keep Zar-roc from cleaving her in two from the head down. She moved to the side and withdrew one of her blades, keeping the other pressed up against Zar-roc's sharp steel. She lashed out, aiming not for a vital point, but for his shoulder. Murtagh was fast due to the king's black enchantments, but Meralaena's natural speed was still faster – her blade cut into the flesh of his shoulder and halted at bone. Murtah's face whitened slightly but he did not cry out or flinch. Instead he shoved her second dagger out of the way and thrust forward, trying to impale her on the red sword. At the same time he reached forward with his free hand and grabbed her right arm, attempting to hold her in the same spot. His eyes were wild with an agony that goes beyond words when his blade made contact and headway. Unprepared for the ferocity and power of the attack, Meralaena gasped as the knifing sensation traveling from her side to her brain. She looked down to see Zar-roc protruding from her side, imbedded nearly up to the hilt. The cool, rational side of her mind began to immediately catalogue damage – the sword had missed her vital organs and passes right between her ribs on both sides of her ribcage, so the most serious issue would be bloodloss and the pain. The irrational side of her mind – the side that let her fall in love with a mortal, the side that defied logic – simply stared at the wound in shock, unable to comprehend how a human had managed to wound her so badly. Perhaps if she had come at him with the intent to kill – or perhaps… Perhaps if she had been expecting him to actually try to kill her, she could have avoided it. But the truth, she realized as she watched her blood fall to the ground, was that she had been expecting Murtagh to regain control. She had been expecting his heart to be stronger than Galbatorix's hold over him.

"I guess I was wrong," she whispered, blood dribbling from her mouth and joining the crimson river flowing from her side.

Meralaena's eyes flickered from the wound to the wound's maker. Murtagh's face was… indescribable. The feeling that a man feels when he hurts the woman he loves is an anguish too great to be expressed by the greatest of writers. Meralaena shook off the shock with great effort and braced her feet on the ground, before pulling back. She couldn't help it – she let out a small scream as the sword pulled free of her body. Meralaena staggered, vision blurring, as the blood flow doubled. She steadied herself, her eyes dull and her heart slowly breaking.

"I'm sorry," Meralaena said softly, speaking past the hot liquid welling up in her mouth. "I'm sorry I couldn't free you. I'm sorry what's happened to you. And I'm sorry that I couldn't save us both." Murtagh took a step back, face paper-white, as Meralaena raised one of her daggers and pointed it at his heart.

_No more emotion, _the Grey Folk thought dispassionately as the last remnants of feeling disappeared, her emotions going into an almost automatic shutdown. _No more fear. _Meralaena locked gazed with Murtagh again and saw him blanch, her eyes colder than they had been in centuries. _No more hesitation. _She stepped forward, seemingly unbothered by the wound in her side, as she tilted the other dagger in his direction.

"This time," she said quietly, "one of us dies."

**Thank you to reviews from last chapter and please review! I know this cycle has been going on for a while in the story, but next chapter something new happens, I promise! Reviews make a depressed teenager happy! Thanks for reading :) Byes! **


	26. Chapter 26

**Is there anyone out there who doesn't hate me? I wouldn't be surprised if all my readers are feeling this uncontrollable urge to smash my head in right about now… arg… I am SO SORRY! I wanted to update, but then I lost my only copy of this story, so I had to re-write five chapters, and once I'd rewritten it grade twelve attacked me and tried to kill me… I swear, school has it in for me. Stupid academics. I have no words with which to apologize. If any of you were actually here with me I'd tell you to smack me, just so I wouldn't' feel so guilty… but to make up for it, I can tell you that I've actually finished writing this story. There are a few more chapters to go and then an epilogue, and then it's DONE. I wouldn't be surprised if you've all forgotten about this particular fanfiction by now… y'know, the one with the grey folk and white dragon. Yeah, that's the one. Anyways… a thousand apologies, my (perhaps former) readers. I shall be resuming my previous habit of updating once a week on Saturdays. Without further ado, here is chapter twenty-six.**

"_I'm sorry," Meralaena said softly, speaking past the hot blood welling up in her mouth. "I'm sorry I couldn't free you. I'm sorry what's happened to you. And I'm sorry that I couldn't save us both." Murtagh took a step back, face paper-white, as Meralaena raised one of her daggers and pointed it at his heart. _

No more emotion_, the Grey Folk thought dispassionately as the last remnants of feeling disappeared, her emotions going into an almost automatic shutdown. _No more fear_. Meralaena locked gazed with Murtagh again and saw him blanch, her eyes colder than they had been in centuries. _No more hesitation_. She stepped forward, seemingly unbothered by the wound in her side, as she tilted the other dagger in his direction. _

"_This time," she said quietly, "one of us dies." _

Meralaena lunged in a move no human eye could follow, bringing her right hand and dagger around in a deadly slashing motion, gleaming blade aimed for Murtagh's throat. The human rider didn't see the blow coming – he just felt her attack and instinctively leapt back. That one instinctive movement saved his life. The dagger slashed through the air where his neck had been a split second before, and then altered its course to join its sister in a race to Murtagh's heart. Murtagh saw the twin knives racing towards his breast and brought Zar-roc up to block – and not a moment too soon. Meralaena's blades made contact with Murtagh's and sent a shockwave up his arms from the force behind them. The human rider gave ground, being pushed back by the sheer force being exerted by his female counterpart. Meralaena whipped her daggers away quickly before attacking again, this time with a series of well-aimed stabbing motions. If even one of them had connected, Murtagh had no doubt that he would be dead, and for once he was profoundly grateful for the speed enhancements that Galbatorix had given him. He was still not as strong as Meralaena – only Grey Folk blood could do that – and he wasn't quite as fast, but he was fast enough to block or dodge her attacks.

Char plummeted towards the ground before snapping his wings open and stopping his descent. Thorn fell past him, unprepared for the smaller dragon's sudden stop. Char roared and loosed a blast of unbridled magic, sending it in a shock-wave at the still-falling red dragon. The blast of energy smacked into ruby scales and threw the older dragon down harder, throwing off his balance. Char observed his red opponent with hard grey eyes and thought. He hadn't heard from Meralaena for a few minutes, and he was worried – but his rider had blocked him out, probably in an attempt to stop her emotions from interfering in his fight. Then suddenly, Char felt a searing pain from the left side of his chest. He roared in surprise and pain and glanced at the spot, expecting to see torn white scales and flesh, but there was nothing – no wound, no ripped muscle, no blood.

_Meralaena, _he realized with dread. _She's hurt. _He tried contacting her, but with the wound came an even stronger barrier, as if she was trying to lock down on the pain and stop it from getting to him.

Char's thoughts were interrupted as Thorn drew near again, circling up from below. Char roared and dived, letting gravity hurtle him towards his crimson opponent. Thorn sped up, using his cherry-red wings to propel himself upwards with the speed of a striking hawk. Miles above the dark earth, the two dragons met in a thunderous clashing of teeth and scales. Crimson barreled into white with the force of an avalanche, and Char was thrown backwards and up from the speed. The dragons locked talons as they plummeted, biting and clawing at each other's necks and eyes. One of Thorn's front claws swiped over one of Char's eyes, leaving a long, bloody trail in a vertical line over his eye. The younger dragon snarled in pain but did not release his hold on the older dragon. His eye was still intact, he realized as they fell, but he couldn't see out of it due to the blood from the cut. Char let loose a vicious growl and twisted his talons, conveniently positioned next to the enemy dragon's throat.

_Meralaena doesn't want to hurt your rider, _Char thought scathingly, _but I cannot find it within myself to show you the same feelings! _His talons dug into the scales at Thorn's throat and made headway. Crimson liquid spurted over his ivory claws and onto his leg, painting the white dragon in red. Thorn screamed, a high-pitched, agonized sound, before his grip on Char loosened and he fell. The red dragon slowly plummeted to the ground, wings unfurling and body going limp. Char roared and loosed a blast of fire after the falling dragon, engulfing him in white flames.

Meralaena pressed one hand to her side, blood spilling from beneath her fingers at an alarming rate. Her other hand held one of her daggers, which she was currently using to defend at attack from Murtagh. They hadn't spoken since the fight had begun; both riders had done in their emotions, so now all that was left was to see who survived. Meralaena blocked, then slashed and dodged. Her head spun as the Grey Folk realized an uncomfortable truth – she was getting slower. Bit by bit, the longer the fight ebbed on and the more blood she lost, she was getting slower.

A sudden pain in her eye made her flinch, and Meralaena blinked in confusion, but she had no time to think on it as Murtagh came at her, Zar-roc raised. The blades clanged in a symphony of sparks, and Meralaena whirled away, puitting space between them.

Meralaena hadn't used magic yet, and she didn't want to. She knew that if she used magic, Murtagh would also; and if they did, there was a good possibility that they would both die, and their dragons along with them. That would leave Galbatorix and Eragon as the only two dragon riders in Alagaesia, and Meralaena was not ready to see her human friend so outmatched.

Murtagh missed a block, and Meralaena's thin blade sliced through the flesh on his chest, creating a horizontal line just over his heart. He hardly seemed to notice it at first – but then he doubled over, clutching his throat.

_Wait a minute. His throat? I didn't wound his throat. _

Meralaena hesitated, the soldier within her warring with the more compassionate side. Murtagh seemed totally oblivious to her; he uttered a gasp of agony and fell to his side just as an earth-shaking roar sounded from where the two dragons fought.

Throughout the battle Meralaena had heard some evidence of her dragon's fight, but nothing like what she heard now. She looked up into the night sky, searching with non-human eyes for a far-distant flash of white and ruby scales. Suddenly the sky was ablaze with white fire, and then Thorn was shrieking and falling, and Murtagh was screaming along with his dragon and flames ate away at his flesh.

Meralaena watched in something akin to horror as the crimson dragon crashed to the ground, still burning. The impact sent a shudder through the ground, and Murtagh's body jerked as his dragon's made contact. Then Thorn lay still, and Murtagh collapsed.

**If any of you care, reviews will make me feel a bit less guilty about leaving you hanging for so long… plus, it would be great to know if any of you are still around and want to read more. Once again, I offer my sincere apologies… I will see you all Saturday. Don't hate me. Review? Please?**


	27. Chapter 27

**My sincere thanks to Princess Arya, Retrained Freedom, GSFEfan25, DiamondOfNight, XscounselondonerX, and two anonymous reviews for your feedback! I really thought that you would all be mad at me and wouldn't want to read it, but it makes me so happy to know that you're still here :) also I want to extend my gratitude to SerenityAngels, yeong-wonhon gang, crimescenefreak, and xXFallenSakuraXx52 for favouriting. Thank you all!**

**Oh, and no, I didn't kill Thorn, I just hurt him. I'm sorry; I should have made that clearer. Thank you for the review!**

**Ok, so I did some editing last night and realized that this chapter was altogether too short. So, guess what? I combined the last three chapters into one. Which means that this right here is the last chapter. The end. No more. Well, except for an epilogue I wrote just to wrap things up. So here it is, the concluding chapter of Last of a Kind! Thank you all for staying with me and supporting me with your wonderful reviews!**

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><p><em>Meralaena watched in something akin to horror as the crimson dragon crashed to the ground, still burning. The impact sent a shudder through the ground, and Murtagh's body jerked as his dragon's made contact. Then Thorn lay still, and Murtagh collapsed. <em>

The flames died out, leaving a smoking red heap on the ground and a white diamond in the sky.

"Char!" Meralaena shouted, unsure if she was happy or sad – or angry.

_Meralaena, _he replied through the link that she had opened.

"Is – is Thorn dead?" she asked, a quiver in her voice. "I'm too far away to sense it."

_I do not know, _he replied. _If he is alive, he is badly hurt. _

Meralaena dragged her eyes away from the rising pillar of smoke and to the man lying in front of her. Murtagh was deathly still, his eyes glazed over and his hand clenched tightly around the hilt of his sword.

Dimly Meralaena sensed Char dive towards Thorn, probably to check for signs of life, but she was focused solely on Murtagh. She drew neared and cautiously knelt beside him.

A sudden sense of deja vu nearly overwhelmed her as she recalled doing exactly the same thing beside Glenaldor's body, and before that at her sister's.

"This man killed Nitasha and Glenaldor," she said to herself. Somehow, the words didn't mean anything to her. Yes, she had grieved – she missed her sister and her friend sorely – but she couldn't bring herself to hate their killer.

Gently Meralaena reached forward and felt Murtagh's neck for a pulse. For a heart-stopping moment there was nothing, and Meralaena felt her heat drop. Then she felt a faint, fluttering feeling in her fingertips. It was almost nothing – so light she might have missed it – but it was there.

_Meralaena, _Char called, _Thorn is alive. Unconscious, but alive. _

"Yes," she whispered, suddenly chocked. "Murtagh is the same_._" Meralaena sheathed her dagger, and the wound in her side complained as Meralaena leaned over Murtagh's body, but she ignored it. She slipped one arm under his neck and upper shoulders and moved so that his head was on her lap.

_Char, _she said, _you must go back and warn the Varden immediately. Galbatorix still intends to attack Surda. _

_Yes, _Char replied, _I will come get you. _

_No, _Meralaena commanded_. You must go without me. _

_Without you? _He protested_. Why? _

_There is something I must try. _

_You're not going to try _that_, are you? _

_I have to. _

_No you don't!_

_Char, please. I'm not asking. I cannot skry Nasuada to warn her; I am going to need every ounce of magical power I have if I want to do this. That means that you must warn them. There is still enough time if you leave now. _

_I will not leave you alone with the two of them! _Char growled.

_They are unconscious. I can tell that Murtagh will not be waking up anytime soon. _

_What about Thorn? _Char questioned_. He is still here. His wounds are not life-threatening, but they are serious. I cut his throat, but it is only a flesh wound. He could still fight if he wakes. _

_He will not wake, _Meralaena responded_. And even if he does, I have his rider. If I must, I will turn this into a hostage situation. Now go, quickly. Every moment we waste will cost Varden lives._

Char was silent for a moment, but Meralaena could tell that it was not the silence of defeat.

_If you will not come back with me, _Char growled, _then for your own sake I will come over there and carry you back by force! _

Meralaena scoffed. "You are not strong enough for that, Char. Murtagh is unconscious, helpless. There will never be another opportunity like this. Go," she told her dragon when he tried to interrupt. "I will be fine."

The last four words were the first lie she had ever spoken to her dragon. _I will be fine. _In truth, Meralaena did not know what would happen when she performed the spell to change Murtagh's true name, but Char did not know that. He was still inexperienced in magic and its use. If she said she would be fine, then her dragon would believe her.

_Alright, _Char acquiesced, _but I am coming back for you as soon as I have warned Nasuada. _

_Agreed, _Meralaena responded. She knew it would take her dragon at least a day to make the journey, and a day was just enough time.

_Be safe, _he told her. _And heal yourself before you do anything else. _

_Yes sir, _Meralaena replied sarcastically.

Char propelled himself into the air with a great sweep of his wings, and soon he was just a white diamond speck on the horizon.

"Be safe, Char," Meralaena whispered, echoing his words to her. "When I am gone, please stay safe. Please be one of those dragons that outlives their rider. Don't die with me, young one."

With those last parting words, Meralaena closed the connection completely between her mind and Char's.

Char, oblivious to his rider's intentions, continued to fly straight as an arrow from the bow towards the Varden.

_It's at times like this, _Meralaena reflected, _that I am glad that Char is still young and naïve. No other dragon would have been convinced to leave so easily; he trusts me too much. And I feel terrible for it. _

Meralaena pulled herself away roughly and turned her attention back to Murtagh.

"The things I do for you," she muttered. "Why did I have to fall for you, of all people?"

The unconscious rider didn't answer her.

Meralaena sighed, and then gasped as the movement of air through her lungs caused a painful twinge in her side. She glanced down at the origin of the feeling. Her hand was still pressed up against the sword wound, crimson liquid spilling from between her fingers, and suddenly she felt light headed.

"Gods, give me the strength for this," she prayed as she reached into her sleeve and once again withdrew the thick scroll containing the spell to free Murtagh amd Thorn. Meralaena was not sure to which Gods she prayed – the Grey Folk had been much like the elves in their atheistic beliefs – but as she unraveled the parchment she found herself internally praying again.

Meralaena stood again and unraveled the first three feet of the scroll. The script inside the parchment was mostly written in the Ancient Language, but there were a few symbols, randomly dispersed throughout the rest, which consisted of the remnants of Meralaena's native tongue. It was those symbols, she knew, that would make this spell different from any other.

Meralaena lay the three feet of script-covered parchment on the ground beside Murtagh and then swiftly drew one of her daggers. She made a quick, clean slice across the parchment, neatly severing the three-foot-long segment. She then laid this segment horizontally near Murtagh's head, so that the span of the paper encompassed the rider's width. She then repeated the process with the next three feet of scroll at his feet, cutting the second piece at a specific point and positioning it so that it lay lengthwise just below Murtagh's feet. Meralaena then cut another strand, this one about seven feet long, and lay it on the ground connecting the first two pieces, so that the inscribed parchment almost surrounded the human rider. She did this one more time, completing the square that completely encircled the dark-haired man.

"Words of the ancients," Meralaena muttered, "Check." She then proceeded to take her hand away from the wound in her side, allowing the blood to spill onto the pure white parchment. She walked an unsteady circle around Murtagh so that her blood spilled on the scroll at least once every foot or so, staining the paper crimson. "Blood of the Royal Line, check." She then leaned over and, with a quick, almost gentle slice, cut a small line in Murtagh's left hand with her knife. _Forgive me for that, love. _His blood oozed out of the small cut, and Meralaena dipped her blade in it before making her way to the head of the strange square. She flicked a single drop of the human rider's blood into the center of the parchment at his head, and as she did so she sensed an almost audible explosion of magical power. "Life-force of the oppressed," the Grey Folk finished, "Check."

Meralaena paused then, at the threshold, at the point which she knew, once beyond it, there would be no turning back. She waited for a split second, torn between heart and mind. Then her hesitation vanished, and she continued with the ritual.

The Grey Folk turned away from Murtagh for a moment and looked towards the Imperial encampment which, in light of recent events, Meralaena had forgotten was so close. Briefly she worried that they might be discovered, but there was really not much to do about it anyway. If the spell went according to plan, her safety would not matter either way. Besides, it was still dark, and it would be for another seven hours. Hopefully, that would be enough.

Meralaena turned away and knelt at the head of the ritual site she had created.

_Why do I feel like some heathen preparing a human sacrifice? _She wondered blatantly as she cleaned her knife, still wet with Murtagh's blood, and slid it back into its sheath. After the brief moment of lightness, Meralaena immediately returned to seriousness. She positioned herself close enough to touch Murtagh if she reached out, but far enough away so that he couldn't reach her quickly if he did indeed wake up. "Alright then," she said, suddenly a bit nervous. "I don't know what's going to happen when I do this, so I'm sorry if it doesn't go as planned." Why she was apologizing to the unconscious rider, Meralaena wasn't sure, but that too quickly faded as she began the spell.

First, the Grey Folk closed her eyes and reached out with her mind to the stores of magic she stored inside herself. The stores themselves were enormous – more than most riders would use in a lifetime – but Meralaena did not stop gathering energy. The power inside her built and built, and soon the sheer amount of magical energy inside the female figure exceeded the boundaries of what even elves could tolerate, but still she kept pushing. In front her, Murtagh flinched in his sleep, unconsciously sensing the massive power buildup.

"Arg," Meralaena grunted as the magic reached painful levels. Eventually her inner stores had all been brought to the forefront her mind, but still it was not enough; at this point, Meralaena began to draw energy from her own stamina. She felt her strength drop dramatically, and only stopped when she was breathless and lightheaded. At some point during this process she noticed that the ground around her and Murtagh was trembling from the magical force being gathered atop it, but she ignored the fact and kept pushing.

Meralaena couldn't have stopped now even if she'd wanted to; the mass of energy building up inside her began to increase in momentum, growing and rolling out in painful waves.

_I'm near my limit, _Meralaena thought distantly, _but it's still not enough… _Meralaena gasped, and dimly she noticed, as if through another's eyes, that her body was actually glowing. Light spilled out from the tips of her fingers and shimmered along the lengths of her arms in a pale, silver color. _Must be the amount of energy, _she thought. _That's interesting. I wonder if it happened to the rest of my kin as they performed the Last Spell. _Meralaena was yanked away from that train of thought as a sudden pain in her chest made itself known. It was right above her heart, and it seemed to be the place in her body where most of the magical power was gathering. Instinctively Meralaena knew that the pain was not good, that it was her body's way of warning her to stop gathering energy, but she ignored her instincts and continued to take in power. At this point the amount of magic she possessed would have killed any number of dragons and their riders if they had tried to take it in.

_I think that should do it, _she thought distantly as her body jerked beneath her, beginning to cave from the overexposure to such power. Then, Meralaena began the actual spell.

She opened her mouth with effort and began to speak, forcing the words in the Ancient Language over her tongue, a tongue that suddenly wanted nothing more than to speak its native language. Still, Meralaena forced herself to say the spell that her, Eragon and Arya had worked so hard to complete. The magic within her shifted and billowed at the sound, almost like a living being, as Meralaena channeled the massive reservoirs of power into the words that she hoped would save Murtagh. She paused for a moment and the prior pain in her chest spiked again, sending rending tremors of agony through her millennium-old body. She closed her eyes against the sensation before ripping them open and continuing with the brutal process.

Eventually Meralaena developed a pattern. Say part of the spell, force a portion of the burning magic into it, ride out the wave of pain that followed in her chest, and then say the next portion. Soon she had lost all idea of time, and all awareness of her surroundings. It was just as well; Meralaena knew that considering the magical energy she was releasing, no one alive in Alagaesia would be able to approach without being crushed by the magical weight. How Murtagh was still alive she wasn't certain.

After what seemed like an eternity, Meralaena reached the ending segment of the scroll. The massive amount of magic that she had gathered was almost gone, and the glow had long since died away from her skin. The parts in the spell where the Ancient Language was used were finished, and all that was left was what was written directly in front of her, on the portion of the scroll closest to Murtagh's head. The single drop of his blood lay directly on top of the last words on the scroll, the words that would either ensure Murtagh's freedom or kill them both. Written in Meralaena's thin, delicate penmanship were the final words to the incantation, written in a language that had not been spoken aloud in Alagaesia since the doom of her kind. Meralaena drew a deep breath, the first all night long, and spoke words of magic in the Grey Folk's tongue in a voice that shivered with power.

"Seithre diona raelaru no stleran cvar. Xiite arula ordoones Alagaesia si shaealen, Murtagh Morzansson y Thorn unaar te ragadik laerta Galbatorix-shnara haan."

_By the power of the Firstborns, I command the Naming broken. By my authority as sole heir of the Grey Folk of Alagaesia, I declare Murtagh Morzansson and Thorn free from Galbatorix and the power their true names hold._

Meralaena gasped as the words left her lips, searing them as they did. Then the command she uttered demanded the energy to complete the task, and Meralaena cried out and crumpled to her side as all of her remaining power slid into completing the spell. Her energy drained at an alarming rate, and soon she was back to her original power level. But the spell didn't stop there. It continued draining her energy until her vision started to go gray. Meralaena thought about trying to sever it, but she knew she didn't want to. _This is for Murtagh. _Her energy dropped to an unprecedented low, and then continued dropping, decreasing to the point where Meralaena was surprised she was still conscious. _I guess… It's going to be... too much… after all, _the last of the Grey Folk thought dully. Her silver eyes flickered over to Murtagh's face, inches from her own, and absurdly, even as she lay dying, she smiled.

The blackness was seconds away from taking her when Murtagh's eyes snapped open. The dark, sad pools of obsidian stared into her ancient grey eyes for a split second, but strangely, Murtagh did not leap to his feet, demanding explanations.

"I thought I heard a goddess speaking," he said, almost to himself, and Meralaena smirked with the last of her remaining strength.

"Not a goddess," she replied, eyes beginning to drift close. "Just… a woman… in love."

And with that, Meralaena Zaalafren, the last of the ancient Grey Folk and Princess of Alagaesia, closed her eyes and drifted off into eternal sleep, never to wake.

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><p>…<p>

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**I have nothing to say. Review? **


	28. Epilogue Part One

**Hello everyone! I want to extend my personal and sincere thanks to each and every one of my reviewers from last chapter, as well as everyone who favourited. You guys are awesome! I had a bit of an issue this week. You see, I had the epilogue written, but then I tried to upload it and we had a power outage and I lost over half of it. And it was a looong epilogue. So I decided to publish the first half now as Epilogue Part 1, and I will rewrite the second half and publish it next week. It's still the longest segment I've ever published at once, so no worries about it being too short. I'm sorry, I know I promised that this week was the last… technology hates me! That is my only excuse. So enough of my rambling, enjoy part one of the epilogue :) **

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><p>Murtagh woke to a different world, remnants of the beautiful song he'd heard still whispering quietly. Sounds and words still echoed in the fringes of his unconscious, but they faded as he pushed the darkness away. With a monumental effort he yanked his eyes open, pulling his mind back to the world of the living. The first thing he saw was a pair of grey eyes. The second was a shock of red hair, tumbling and tangled.<p>

_Meralaena. _

"I thought I heard a goddess speaking," he whispered, saying the first thing that came into his head. _A goddess… _

"Not a goddess," Meralaena rasped softly. It was obvious that the pain she was in was extreme, but still an absurd little smile twitched at the corner of her mouth. "Just… a woman… in love."

Murtagh watched in abject horror as her eyes, those beautiful, soft grey eyes, slid shut. Those eyes could maim at a whim, or they could melt – and now they were closed. Something about that fact seemed profoundly wrong to Murtagh. Meralaena's face was smooth, free of the usual worry lines, but even as she went completely limp, the peaceful little smirk stayed on her face.

"Meralaena?" Murtagh said, his tone hinting at alarm. "Meralaena, come one, cut it out. Wake up."

The human rider reached over and gently shook the Grey Folk by her shoulder, but she did not move. She didn't breathe. "No," Murtagh gasped, a cold feeling beginning to grow somewhere in the pit of his stomach. "No, this isn't happening." His body flew into a sitting position, and then he was kneeling by Meralaena's side, his hands desperately feeling her neck for a pulse. Her flesh was smooth and soft under his hands, and at any other time he would have noticed the sensation – except for the fact that the skin was cold. Icy cold, like a polished stone left outside in the winter. Deathly cold. "Meralaena?" he whispered her name as he felt the last flicker of hope leave him. Murtagh bowed his head as his hand slipped from her neck, a painful ripping sensation beginning somewhere inside his chest. Then the red rider drew in a breath, threw back his head and screamed. He screamed like he hadn't when his old mentor Tornac had been killed. He screamed like he had refused to do when Galbatorix tortured him. He screamed at the pain, at the rage, but mostly he screamed at the fact that Meralaena – _his_ Meralaena – was gone. Gone, gone, and never coming back.

Gone.

Forever.

Gone.

Murtagh had known that it might come to this, but he had always hoped, in some dark corner of his mind, that things would work out. That somehow, Eragon would defeat that bastard of a king and Murtagh could have the red-head lying beside him. He had hoped, even though he had sworn never to hope again. When had he started hoping again? He wondered as tidal waves of pain crashed against his chest. He supposed that it was when he had first started dreaming about Meralaena. Murtagh hadn't realized it, but the first time he saw Meralaena, he had fallen hopelessly in love.

Murtagh's cry ran out of air, and he fell limp across Meralaena , eyes squeezed shut. Why? Why did he always have to get the short end of the stick? Why couldn't he have been the one to die? That way, Meralaena wouldn't be lying still and cold on the ground. That way, at least it would have been fair.

"Why?" he hissed out loud. Murtagh wasn't sure when he started crying, but a drop of liquid fell from his face and splashed onto the blood-covered scroll, making a little clear spot. "Why did you do it?" he asked. He gently pulled her into his lap, propping Meralaena's body up so that she half sat, half lay in his arms. Her form was soft, and when Murtagh gently scooped her up in his arms and stood, he was shocked by how light she was. Delicate, like a tiny flame in the midst of a windstorm. For a moment he closed his eyes and just breathed, inhaling her scent, a smell that reminded him of high places and windy mountaintops; a clean, pure scent, marred only by the smell of her blood. Past the burning in his chest, Murtagh wondered how someone so fragile could wield so much power.

Then the red rider's eyes snapped open and focused with frightening intensity, and a hot feeling began to gather in the pit of his stomach. To call it anger would be an understatement – the feeling that was condensing in Murtagh was more akin to rage, but even that did not cover it.

"Galbatorix," Murtagh snarled the word like a curse. "You did this." The human rider ran a gentle finger over Meralaena'c cold, soft skin and then howled to the sky, "_You did this_!"

Further away, Thorn awoke slowly. His last memory was of the white dragon clawing and tearing at his throat, and then falling… he shook his great head to clear it and winced at the motion. He was burned; the white dragon's fire had eaten right through his scales to the flesh beneath, searing his sensitive skin. The fall had wounded his tail, and at least three ribs were broken. Blood was dripping from his neck, but Thorn knew that if his enemy's claws had slit his throat he would have been dead by that point. Thorn rumbled and sought out his rider, only to find that Murtagh was already beside him. The dark-haired man picked his way through the rubble surrounding his dragon, and Thorn hissed in shock at the body in his rider's arms. The woman was limp, obviously dead, and her hair rippled over Murtagh's arms and floated in the breeze like a stray strand of rogue flame.

_It is done? _Thorn asked, cautious of his rider's emotionless expression. Murtagh had put strong barriers up, keeping his dragon from knowing what he was thinking, but the look in his eyes said it all.

"It is done. And we are free."

It took Thorn a moment to realize what his rider had said, and another to fully understand it. _Free? You don't mean… _hope rocketed through the red dragon. _She did it? _

Murtagh was silent, but his eyes were dark, smoldering. "Yes. She did it. She did it, but it killed her."

Thorn was silent as he digested this. _She must really have loved you. _

Murtagh nodded, a lump suddenly appearing in his throat. "As I loved her."

The red pair was quiet for a long moment. Neither was quite sure what to do, now that they were free – it had been so long since the two of them had been free to make their own decisions.

_What do we do now? _Thorn inquired. _Should we go to the Varden? _

"No," Murtagh said flatly. "Not the Varden." He approached his dragon and gently placed Meralaena on the ground, before coming around and beginning to heal Thorn's wounds. Thorn wanted to ask what his rider had in mind, but the cold, almost savage look in the human's eyes stilled his questions. Murtagh healed Thorn's throat, then moved on to his ribs. The bones snapped back into place before mending, itching slightly as they did so. Last of all the rider mended the gash in Thorn's tail, probably caused by a sharp rock when he'd fallen. When he was finished Murtagh straightened, and Thorn climbed to his feet, watching his rider carefully. Murtagh retrieved Meralaena's body and seated her in Thorn's saddle before climbing up behind her and securing their legs in the straps. "Thorn," Murtagh growled in a dark tone, and his dragon shivered involuntarily, "Take us to Uru'Baen."

Thorn was confused, but his rider's tone did not invite argument. The red dragon spread cherry-crimson wings and leapt into the sky, bearing his rider and his deceased enemy towards the king's stronghold.

Murtagh did not speak to Thorn the entire way back. Multiple times Thorn tried to talk to his rider, but the icy look in his eye coupled with the unidentifiable dark emotion radiating past his mental walls stymied any attempts at conversation. Thorn was loath to admit it, but at the moment, he was actually frightened by his rider.

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><p>Half a day and no words later, Thorn landed with a clattering of claws and a flaring of wings on the platform in Uru'baen. Wordlessly Murtagh slid off his back and started to walk away, ignoring his dragon and the body still slumped in the saddle.<p>

_Murtagh, _Thorn growled, finally fed up with being shut out and ignored. _I'm prepared to give you time to grieve, but why are we here? Was I mistaken when I thought that if we ever became free we would no longer serve Galbatorix? _

Murtagh stopped, his back to the red dragon. Thorn saw the muscles in his back tense and his hands clench into fists, and when the rider spoke, his voice sent shivers down Thorn's spine.

"No," the son of Morzan replied in a voice like liquied flame, "you were not mistaken."

_Then why are we here? _Thorn inquired when Murtagh did not elaborate. His rider was silent, and Thorn saw a thin trail of blood drip from his fists where his nails had dug into his palms.

"We are here?" Murtagh said, "Because I have business with the k- with Galbatorix." Murtagh resumed walking, and by the time his dragon had worked out what he meant by 'business', he was across the platform and entering the building. "Stay here," he tossed over his shoulder. "Protect her body."

_Murtagh, wait! _Thorn yelled. _Are you that foolish? One of the king's spellcasters will have alerted him to our newly changed names by now. Even being here is too dangerous, let alone seeking him out!_ Murtagh paused again, one foot already inside the fortress.

"Protect Meralaena," he ordered flatly before disappearing into the dark interior, shutting his dragon out of his mind as he did.

_Murtagh! _Thorn shouted, but his call bounced off Murtagh's barriers. The red dragon snarled, baring his ivory incisors as anger and fear for his rider welled up in equal amounts.

Thorn twisted his neck around to look at Meralaena. She was a lot less attractive than he remembered; her hair was limp and dank, absent of the usual curls and vibrant color, and the majority of her side was soaked in crimson liquid that coated her beige shirt and green skirt, and then trickled down to stain the leather saddle. Her face was pale, absent of blood and life, and she was slumped lightly across his shoulders.

Thorn was not sure why Murtagh was acting the way he was. What he was sure of was that his rider's sporadic actions and emotions were due to the death of the woman on his back. The red dragon had known that Murtagh had feelings for her; but never had he expected the reaction to be so strong. Meralaena was their enemy – it was logical to assume that she might die. Thorn snorted a stream of smoke as he mulled over the unfamiliar human emotions which seemed so foreign to his dragon consciousness.

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><p>Rage. Calm. Anger. Agony. Serenity. Finality. The feelings raged inside Murtagh, so much more potent than he remembered, threatening to overwhelm him and turn him into a raging, vengeful animal.<p>

_Meralaena. _

At the single words, the single thought, the agony spiked, dragging an agonized moan from Murtagh's lips. As he moved, almost on autopilot, his hand reached up and brushed the spot on his chest just above his heart where most of the pain seemed to be coming from. His fingers dug into the flesh above the pumping organ, hoping to ease the agony, but he knew that nothing short of ripping his own heart out would end the pain. At the moment, he almost considered it.

Soon Murtagh came to the throne room and stopped, staring at the dark black door with darker and blacker eyes, eyes that suddenly seemed to reflect the change he was feeling.

_I will do it, _Murtagh thought coldly as he stepped inside, his gaze alighting on the raised dais and black throne, then sliding upwards to see the man sitting on it. _I will do what Eragon and Saphira won't get the chance to. _Murtagh moved forward, his hand twitching spasmodically towards Zar'roc's hilt as he locked eyes with the king. _I will kill you. _Murtagh drew nearer, the king unsuspecting, the red rider enraged. _I will kill you for what you did to her. _Galbatorix's eyes flickered up to bore into Murtagh's coldly, and at any other time the younger rider would have flinched. But not now. _You sick bastard, it's your fault she's dead. _

Murtagh came to a stop before the throne, but instead of stopping at the foot, he strode up the shallow steps and drew Zar-roc, the blade singing a soft 'shing' as it left the sheath.

He knew there were a thousand things that could go wrong. Galbatorix could have wards up against other rider's swords. He could have traps set to spring if he was attacked. He could have any number of magical protections around him.

So it shocked Murtagh when his sword plunged into Galbatorx's body with a wet squelch, the blade going through the king's body and the chair behind him. Galbatorix's mouth opened in a soundless 'O' and his eyes widened in disbelief, the first emotion besides anger to cross his face in Murtagh's memory. Murtagh's grip tightened on the blade, and he yanked it out to an agonized shriek from his former master. He then swung, a single, powerful blow, and loped the king's head off in the fell swing.

A dull thump echoed through the room. Then Galbatorix's headless body slithered to the floor, blood spilling from the stump of his neck and rippling over the stairs of the dais. The head rolled to the edge of the platform, and then rolled down the stairs and came to a rest in the middle of the floor.

Murtagh stood, hands white-knuckled around his sword's hilt, as Galbatorix's blood flowed in to the floor.

"That was for Meralaena," the red rider told the deceased body. "I only wish she was alive to see this."

Cautiously Murtagh let down the barriers around his mind, half expecting Galbatorix to jump up and start torturing him. But he didn't, and the only mind that Murtagh found close to his was Thorn's.

_Are you alright? _Thorn demanded on contact. _What happened? Did you – _Thorn broke off as he saw Galbatorix's body, minus the head, through his rider's eyes. _Oh gods, you did. _Murtagh sheathed Zar-roc.

"Yes. I did."

_Why didn't his wards stop you? _Thorn inquired as Murtagh stepped over the body and walked to the door. _Surely he would have protected himself against this. _Murtagh didn't respond for a moment, instead crossing to the wall and tearing a piece of cloth out of a tapestry hanging beside the throne. He then scooped up Galbatorix's head without looking at it and wrapped it firmly in the material.

_To show the Varden, _he explained when his dragon projected a question. _As to why his wards did not protect him… _Here, Murtagh's lip twitched upwards in a dark smirk. _He was arrogant. I thought carefully about this on the way here, and I discovered something; Galbatorix had cast spells to alert him if we changed our true names, but not if someone _else _changed them for us. Therefore, since it was Meralaena and not us who changed them, he would not be alerted. And I could catch him off guard._

_That doesn't explain why you were able to wound him, _Thorn countered.

_He must have been protected against physical attack. _At this, Murtagh's brow creased in a slight frown.

"Yes, that confuses me also."

The two thought on it for a moment, before a heavy knock sounded on the throne room door, prompting Murtagh to jump a bit and grasp Zar-roc's hilt. The rider checked the knocker's identity with his mind, and relaxed when it was only a serving girl. But not just any serving maid, he realized – it was Ruuka, the girl who Galbatorix had sent to fetch him the last time he'd been in Uru'baen. There were any number of servants assigned to him, but Ruuka was the only one who had remained consistent. Murtagh did not exactly like her, nor did he pretend to care for her, but having a sense of familiarity in a place like Uru'baen had been essential for his sanity. More often than not, Ruuka had provided that sense of familiarity.

Murtagh strode to the door and yanked it open, making no effort to hide his scowl.

Ruuka yelped in surprise at the sudden appearance of the red rider and bowed automatically.

"S-sir," she said, "I've been asked to inform Lord Galbatorix that -"

"Galbatorix is dead," Murtagh told her flatly. Ruuka's eyes, a light jade green, widened in shock and more than a little fear. Murtagh stepped aside, and as if against her will the teenage girl's gaze was drawn to the king's headless body, then to the bundle in Murtagh's hands. She gasped, hands flying to her mouth. "Go," Murtagh told her. "Tell the other servants. There are still dangerous people here. If you move quickly you will be able to get out before his pet spellcasters realize what has happened." Ruuka nodded, her face still stricken, and turned to run. Before she left, Murtagh grabbed her wrist impulsively. "Ruuka…" she stopped, obviously frightened. Murtagh realized that that had been the first time he'd referred to her by name. "Thank you." He let her go, and with a final glance the girl picked up her skirts and bolted in the direction of the servant courters.

_What about Shruikan? _Thorn asked as Murtagh began to retrace his steps to the dragon landing platform. At the question Murtagh halted, his confident stride faltering briefly. _You didn't even consider him, did you? _

"Shut up," Murtagh growled.

_Did you?_

"Well…"

_I thought as much. _

"Do you think he died with Galbatorix?"

_Hardly. The bond those two shared was sick and twisted, nothing like ours. With Galbatoriox's death, I cannot even begin to guess at what Shruikan will do. _

"I suppose we should go talk to him and -"

Murtagh gasped out loud and went down to one knee as a powerful force, massive and malicious, descended on his mind.

_Murtagh! _His dragon cried, but Murtagh was suddenly unable to respond, and soon he lost the connection to his dragon altogether as the new entity spoke.

**So, the rat has made his move, has he? **The voice blasted inside his mind, burning and carrying an intensity that made listening almost painful.

"Shruikan?" Murtagh questioned breathlessly.

**Yes, I am he. What has happened to my rider? There is foulness in the air.**

"You don't know?" Murtagh questioned in surprise.

**Galbatorix keeps his mind well sequestered from everyone, including me. Something has happened. WHERE IS MY RIDER? **

Murtagh gasped again as the black dragon's voice thundered in his mind. "I -" the red rider broke off, not wanting to tell the black dragon the truth but knowing he could not lie either. Eventually he said reluctantly, "I killed him." There was silence for a moment that seemed like eternity, and Murtagh thought that Shruikan would try to kill him there and then – but then the dragon spoke again, quieter than before but still in a voice like rolling thunder.

**He is dead, you say. **Murtagh sent the dragon a wordless confirmation, along with his memories of the deed. Shruikan was silent again. Then, **I see. His arrogance has finally destroyed him. **An unidentifiable emotion rose up in the old dragon, and before Murtagh could identify it, Shruikan was pulling away. **You have done Alagaesia a great service, boy. **

Murtagh waited, and when the dragon did not speak again he said, "Why don't you come with us to the Varden? Perhaps with Galbatorix dead they would accept-"

**They will not accept my presence, or any offer of friendship, even should I choose to offer it. Better for all involved if I simply stay here and die with my rider. I can already feel Galbatori'x death-force seeping into my bones, making me weary. It will not be long now. Be careful of the Varden, young one, **Shruikan said. **Do not expect anything from them. They will be as wary of you as they would be of me. **With those last, disturbing words, Shruikan withdrew his mind and seemingly shut down.

As the black dragon's mind retreated, Thorn swept back into Murtagh's mind. Wordlessly the red dragon sent his rider a question. "He just wanted to talk to me," Murtagh answered, getting to his feet and continuing down the long, winding corridor that led to his dragon. "He said he is going to die, now that Galbatorix is dead."

_It's a shame, _Thorn said sadly. _I didn't get to speak with Shruikan much, but I got the feeling that he was a very sad being. Galbatorix wronged no one more than his own dragon. _

"Aye," Murtagh agreed softly. The red rider reached the end of the corridor and slid open the heavy wooden door before stepping out into the sunlight. He gazed at the sun and marveled at how much had happened in the past twelve hours. Meralaena had died not even five hours ago. With that unfortunate thought a sudden agony spiked inside Murtagh's chest, but he grit his teeth and refused to cry out. Logically he knew that the pain was psychological, but his physical reaction to her death seemed to be on par with even the most gruesome wound, for the sensation was likened to a dagger though the heart.

_Murtagh! _Thorn exclaimed.

"I am alright," the human replied. He stumbled forward and arrived, breathless, at Thorn's side. "We must leave this place. Too many shadows cling to its walls to linger."

_I could not agree more. _

Murtagh opened one of Thorn's saddlebags and got out an extra tunic. He wrapped Galbatori'x head – which he still clutched in his hand – in the clean material and then shoved the bundle into the leather container. Thorn expressed wordless distaste, which Murtagh eachoed, but they both knew that if the Varden were to listen to them, they would need some serious proof of their friendly intentions.

Murtagh wiped the king's blood from his hand and reluctantly transferred his gaze from his dragon to the body still strapped in the saddle. Since reentering the landing platform, Murtagh had been doing his best not to look at her. Now, however, there was very little choice. He jumped up into the saddle and slid into the second set of straps, shuddering as his body came into contact with Meralaena's icy cold skin.

"Now," Murtagh said apprehensively, "we go to the Varden."

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><p><strong>Galby's dead! Woo! Oh and I had a reviewer last week who mentioned something about the images from the first chapter and the river scene popping up… I only meant that scene and her prophetic dreams to be metaphorical, like... the dream was symbolic of Meralaena and Murtagh being swept together towards a common fate, namely her dying to free him. Sorry if it was confusing. Thanks again to my reviewers! Next week is the end! What did you guys think of part one? Please review! I love you all!<strong>


	29. Epilogue Part Two

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**I have no words with which to apologize for the delay, so I won't bother. I know, you all must hate me by now, in fact I quite hate myself… ah well, this is the final segment. The end. So please, if at all possible, enjoy the crappyness that is my writing. Thanks so much to my reviews for part one of the epilogue, I love you guys! In a totally not-creepy way. Oh, and I almost forgot – the first two pages or so were written by my good friend Badwolf16, who was good enough to provide me with some anti-writer's block material. It's thanks to her that this even got written. So thank you!**

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><p><em>Something is wrong, Eragon… I have lost the feel of Meralaena's life-force, <em>Char said worriedly, looking down his snout at the pacing human. Since he had arrived back from his mission, Eragon had been aimlessly walking around with a worried frown on his face, wondering why Meralaena wasn't with Char. The boy had one hand clenched tightly inside the pocket of his white tunic, and he kept exchanging anxious glances with Sapphira. Char thought it strange that the human was so worried for a Grey Folk, someone who could most definitely take care of herself. But even so, since Char also lost the feeling of her life force almost half a day ago, he couldn't help but feel the same anxiety.

"She has to be coming back. She wouldn't just abandon us, even if it was to save Murtagh…" Eragon mumbled to himself. He continued to pace, a well-worn path now just forming where his feet had continuously landed. Char and Saphira watched him, their own anxiety for him and Meralaena growing every moment Nasuada delayed them from going back.

Char had insisted that they go back as soon as possible to check if Meralaena had tried to perform the spell to free Murtagh and Thorn, but Nasuada advised against the plan. They needed to push Galbatorix's forces out of Surda before the white dragon would be free to do what he liked. The Varden forces on the Surda-empire border had managed to stymie the attack, only due to the fact that Murtagh and Thorn had not shown up to aid them. The red pair's absence on the battlefield was the only positive thing about the current situation. The three waiting beings knew that if Murtagh was no longer following Galbatorix's orders, then Meralaena must have been at least partially successful.

"Why is Nasuada keeping us here? We must find Meralaena! She could need our help!" Eragon yelled, grabbing at his brown hair with frustration. He stopped in his pacing and glared down at the ground, wracking his brain for a plan to rescue Meralaena without disobeying orders. Nothing came to mind and he went back to pacing, holding his head and glaring down at his feet as he walked.

_Calm yourself, Eragon Shadeslayer, _Char said. _You are not helping Meralaena by worrying about her_. Eragon glanced at the white dragon, surprised by his apparent lack of concern.

"Worrying sounds better than doing nothing. Besides, how can you stand by so calmly while your Rider is out there with no help?" He snapped his head up to look into the silver eyes of the magnificent creature, eyeing him and waiting for a reply. Char leaned his head down, his snout within inches of Eragon's face and he snarled warningly, causing Sapphira to tense and growl low in her throat.

_You will do well to remember your place, human. It may not look like it, but I can assure you my feelings for Meralaena's safety run much deeper than your own. _Eragon's glare faltered and he snorted softly, deciding it would be wise not to reply with a snide remark. Instead he resumed pacing.

The blue dragon leaned down and nudged Eragon, making him stop and look up at her, confusion dancing across his face until out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nasuada coming. Her orange dress was striking against her dark skin and Eragon couldn't help but stare.

"Eragon, Saphira, Char." Nasuada said in turn, looking at each of them before folding her arms across her abdomen and glancing at her feet. "I have come to inform you that some of our spies have seen Thorn and Murtagh roaming the fortress Uru'baen. They have also told me that they had seen another person besides Murtagh atop Thorn, a woman with red hair. I am afraid to even suggest that it could be Meralaena." Nasuada said the words slowly, looking at Char for an emotional response. None came, which made her feel more at ease as she continued.

"The informant didn't know if she was alive, but when he tried to contact her, he couldn't sense her presence. He thinks Thorn was interfering, but we will know for sure when I send you three out." Eragon's shocked expression turned to one of determination to find Meralaena, as well as a healthy amount of anger.

"Murtagh and Thorn are heading in this direction," Nasuada continued. "I am sending you all out this time. Go now, and good luck." Char rose to his crouching position, and his demure took a darker turn, something Nasuada had never seen on the young dragon and hoped to never see again. The white beast emanated an aura of pure, murderous intent against the one who had hurt his rider. His soft grey eyes went flat and hard, and he shifted into a crouch, eager to be gone.

Eragon jumped up to Saphira's back with ease, strapping his legs into his saddle and glancing at Nasuada. She nodded and Saphira took to the skies with a load roar, flapping her great wings to gain altitude. Char watched them as they climbed higher and higher into the skies before he looked down at Nasuada. He leaned down and touched his muzzle to her face. _Thank you for letting me find my rider._ Nasuada smiled lightly and touched his muzzle softly before he in turn rose from the ground and took off into the sky, quickly gaining on Saphira and Eragon.

(With Murtagh and Thorn, Five Hours Previously)

The flight away from Uru'baen was almost as quiet as the flight there. Murtagh was off in his own world, and Thorn knew it was probably best just to leave him alone. The human rider had never lost someone like Meralaena before; it made sense, the red dragon reflected, that he wouldn't know how to cope. The ruby dragon settled for sending the occasional comforting surge of thought through their link.

It took the red pair three hours at full speed to fly from Uru'baen and the heart of the empire to the Hadarac desert, and then another hour to cross it. They did not stop during the journey, and for Thorn it became a habit to cast anxious glanced back at his rider. Murtagh hadn't spoken a word since takeoff, and as the shadows below his eyes and in his mind continued to grow, so did Thorn's concern.

It was shared knowledge between the two of them that the Varden scouts had probably seen them heading towards their stronghold, so the red dragon and rider were alert for the appearance of the blue pair.

They were halfway across the Hadarac desert when Eragon and Saphira appeared before them, materializing from the Bohr Mountains with a challenging roar on the she-dragon's part. Char followed close behind, his maw distorted with a feral snarl, and Thorn's upper lip curled back in response. The opposing dragons were still a couple miles off but approaching quickly, the two appearing as sapphire and diamond jewels in the early morning sunlight.

_Land, _Murtagh said. _We need to show them that we do not intend to fight. _

Thorn obeyed reluctantly and glided down gracefully. His talons met the hot sand as he glided to a stop, and Murtagh quickly unbuckled the leather straps around his legs and dismounted.

_You realize how vulnerable this makes us, _Thorn growled.

"Yes," Murtagh responded. It was true – a dragon and rider separated and grounded were very vulnerable to a dragon and rider in the air. "Eragon is not the kind of man who will attack an opponent on the ground. As for Meralaena's dragon…" Murtagh trailed off as he eyed the white dragon warily. "He must not know that she is dead yet. If he did he would be attacking us right now." With those words, Murtagh undid his long black cloak and swung it over Meralaena's body, hiding her from view. Murtagh saw Eragon and his dragon falter slightly in their approach when he dismounted, their flight path altering from a head-on approach to a flanking motion. Beside them, Char did the same on the left, putting the red pair in between. Instead of coming in straight on to attack, Sapphira and Char angled sideways and shot past them before circling back. As Char passed he locked eyes with Murtagh, and Murtagh had to force himself not to shudder as the dragon's icy eyes – disconcertingly similar to his deceased rider's – locked onto his with ferocious intensity. When they were past Murtagh quickly undid the straps on Meralaena's legs and gently put her on the ground beside Thorn. He made sure her face and bright hair were covered before turning his attention back to the situation at hand.

The blue pair landed a ways off, and the ground trembled slightly as Sapphira thundered to the earth, closely followed by Char. The she-dragon snarled at the red pair, and Murtagh got the feeling that landing instead of attacking had been more Eragon's idea. Eragon also unstrapped his legs and jumped off his dragon, putting the two pairs on equal ground. Char made no move or sound, but the way the younger dragon eyed Thorn and his rider gave Thorn the feeling that he was thinking of all the ways he could brutally kill them. For a moment nobody moved, and Murtagh realized blatantly that he hadn't thought beyond this point. Suddenly unsure of himself, Murtagh stepped forward away from Thorn and stopped, watching the opposing rider carefully. "Hello brother," he said softly. He saw Eragon stiffen slightly.

"Murtagh," Eragon said flatly. "What are you doing?"

"Coming to talk," he replied. Murtagh thought of many things he could say, but he decided to just get right to the point. "Our true names changed, Eragon. We are free of the king." Surprise flickered across Eragon's face, immediately followed by suspicion.

"How can I trust you?" Murtagh smirked without humor at the expected question.

"I can prove that what I say is true."

"How?" Eragon inquired. Sapphira growled, a low, drawn out sound, making her stance on the issue clear.

"I killed Galbatorix."

The look of surprise on Eragon's face was almost comical, it was so absolute. Even Sapphira looked thrown off; her sky blue eyes widened, and a puff of smoke escaped her mouth.

"Eragon," Murtagh said, "I know this is sudden. But I can prove it, if you'll only listen."

"Where is Meralaena?" Eragon demanded. Char's eyes snapped up to Murtagh at the question. The white dragon had a very bad feeling about the answer. Murtagh was silent for a moment, debating.

_What do I tell them? _He asked his dragon. _If I tell that that she's dead they won't listen to the rest. _

_They may, _Thorn replied. _Eragon in particular seems reasonable. _

_Yes, but her dragon… _

_Aye. Her dragon may be a problem. _

"I will tell you, but only if you promise to listen to the entire tale before you act," Murtagh said. Eragon and Sapphira exchanged a glance, and then they looked at Char. He nodded his great head, and as one the three of them looked at the red pair and said in the Ancient Language,

_We promise._

"Alright," Murtagh said. He was suddenly doubly nervous, but he pushed it aside. "Meralaena," he said, wincing as her name passed his lips, "is dead."

Both opposing dragons hissed, and Eragon's face creased in pain, the type of pain that was expected but potent.

Then Char roared. The white dragon's fury was volcanic; with the sound came a rumbling of magical pressure, growing explosively in Char's mind and preparing to lash out. His talons dug into the sand and his wings flared menacingly, preparing to leap and take out anything in his path.

_Wait, Char! _Sapphira shouted, but there was no need. Char had promised to listen in the ancient language, and since Murtagh was not done with his tale, the white dragon had no choice but to allow the red rider to finish. Char snarled manically at Murtagh and Thorn, but his promise held him still, as it would until Murtagh had told them everything.

"You…" Eragon stuttered, unable to find a word expressive enough for his half-brother. "You bastard! Do you realize what you've done? She was the last of her kind! You-"

"I didn't kill her!" Murtagh yelled, cutting Eragon off. Eragon's eyes widened slightly as Murtagh went on. "It wasn't me! She did it herself!" the red rider desperately tried to reign in his emotions as he went on. "It was during our battle. Char hurt Thorn and knocked him out. At the same time Meralaena got a hit on me, and the wound combined with Thorn falling made me lose consciousness. When I awoke, Meralaena was dying and Thorn and I were free. That is all I know, I swear." The last sentence was said in the Ancient Language, proving its truth. Murtagh went on, his tone more controlled now that he was off the subject of Meralaena's death. "I went to Uru'baen. I was so angry…" He stopped, remembering the feeling of blatant rage and hatred boiling in his stomach. "I went straight to Galbatorix's throne room. Somehow, I don't know how, I managed to catch the bastard off guard." Murtagh walked over to Thorn and got the king's bloody head out of the saddlebag. He paced back and unceremoniously tossed it onto the sand, the stained cloth falling free to reveal Galbatorix's severed head.

Eragon's eyes widened, and even Sapphira managed to look shocked.

"Everything I have told you is true," Murtagh said, once again using the Ancient Language. "The king is dead, and not only Thorn and I, but all of Alagaesia is free of his grasp." He stopped speaking and looked over to Eragon, his eyes alight with emotion. "Brother, we are all free." A deep-set sadness appeared in his face, and his eyes fell. "But at great cost." He walked once again to Thorn, his gait slower this time, more reluctant. He knelt beside Thorn, in the shadows, and gently picked up a dark form that Eragon hadn't noticed. The red rider moved with such caring, such reverent gentleness, that by the time Murtagh arrived in front of Eragon, Sapphira and Char, there was no doubt in the blue rider's mind as to who the body belonged to.

"No..." the single word escaped his lips as Murtagh removed the cloak and set Meralaena down. His hand lingered softly on her cheek for a moment before he straightened.

A single tear escaped the confines of Eragon's eye, before he transferred his stare from his dead companion to his half-brother. It wasn't angry, but neither was it accepting. It was simple, pure grief. He was about to speak when a quiet gasp from lower down gained his attention.

Murtagh's heart stopped at the small noise. Then he looked down.

For one, eternal moment, Murtagh cursed the fates and his own emotions for allowing the small streak of hope. He stared at Meralaena, and his breath hitched as a tiny movement caught his eye. Hardly daring to hope, he knelt beside her again. The red rider was leaning forward to gently brush a strand of hair out of her pale face, when her eyes snapped open. With the small movement came the full force of a new life-energy; Meralaena's magical presence snapped into existence with an almost audible pop, and he yelped in shock and stumbled backward. Meralaena stared unblinkingly up at the sky for a moment, before she turned her head.

"Mur-tagh?" she whispered hoarsely. "Char?"

Everyone was absolutely silent for a split second, before the air was suddenly filled with the questions and exclamations of three different people.

"How did you-"

"You said she was dead!"

_This isn't possible! _

The voices were abruptly silenced as Char snarled, the menacing sound reverberating through the ground.

_Everyone except Meralaena and Murtagh, leave. Now. _Eragon, Sapphira and Thorn all exchanged looks full of foreboding before slowly obeying. Char's tone was not one they wished to argue with.

Eragon mounted Sapphira, who leapt into the air with a powerful thrust of her back legs. Thorn followed suit with one last thought for his rider.

_I will not go far. Call me the moment you need me. _

Murtagh sent him a wordless confirmation. The crimson dragon took to the air and glided away, landing as soon as he was out of sight. Murtagh looked back warily to Char and Meralaena, but the white pair was not paying attention to him. By the way Meralaena was wincing, he guessed that her dragon was yelling at her.

From her position on the ground, Meralaena was enduring just that.

_**What were you thinking? You told me you would be fine! I knew you felt for the boy, but I had no idea it was this bad. Do you have any idea what it feels like to believe that you've lost your rider? Did you even consider me or the Varden when you decided to kill yourself? For someone who is 2500 years old, you have thoroughly shocked me with your stupidity!**_

_Char, please calm down, _Meralaena thought back. Her heart was pounding like a drum, probably from not having been in use for the past eight hours, and her eyes and side felt like they were on fire, but she ignored the pain in favour of answering her incensed dragon. _I had hoped that I could do it without dying. And besides, _she added hurriedly, _I'm not dead anymore, am I? _

_Yes, about that… _

Meralaena sighed, inwardly thankful that her dragon had stopped his verbal barrage.

"I'm sorry I scared you," she told him out loud. The white dragon rumbled, still somewhat irritated with her, but when she reached up to hug his neck, he didn't pull away.

_I'm glad you are alright, _he said, giving into relief. _But how? How are you alive?_

"I'm sure lots of people would like to know the answer to that question," Meralaena said.

Murtagh, having been deaf to Char's half of the conversation, still managed to guess what she was talking about.

"Yes, I would like to know that as well," the human interjected when he was sure that the dragon wasn't fixated on ending his life anymore.

As if suddenly realizing that he was there, Meralaena's head snapped around, and her lips parted slightly in shock.

"Murtagh!" she exclaimed. "Did – did it work?" Murtagh smiled at her in a way that made her already laboring heart stutter.

"Yeah. It worked." Meralaena was quiet for a moment. Then a smile split her face, small at first but quickly developing into a huge grin, the likes of which she hadn't given for centuries. She then surprised Murtagh by flinging her arms around his neck, laughing hysterically. Somewhere along the line the laughter turned into sobs, and then she was crying tears of joy all over his tunic. Murtagh smiled slightly, then gave up on restraint and embraced her frail form in his arms, laughing and even crying alongside her.

Minutes later, Meralaena withdrew slightly, but kept one hand wrapped around Murtagh. In sudden realization the Grey Folk's hand flew to her side, where Zar'roc had impaled her, but her fingers found only smooth skin.

"How…?" she breathed. "Murtagh, did you heal my body?"

"No," he replied, just as confused as Meralaena.

"Then… Oh, I think I know. It probably healed when I performed the freeing spell on you two."

"Yes, while we're on that topic… would you mind explaining how you are alive?"

"Well," Meralaena said, turning slightly to include Char in the conversation, "I am not one hundred percent certain. However, I do have a theory."

_Let's hear this theory, _Char said.

"… It might not be correct," Meralaena told them, "But I'll tell you what I suspect. You see, the spell I used involved a large amount of highly complex phrases in the Ancient Language. That's normal. What _wasn't _normal was that I used small amount of the Grey Folk's tongue, which has no name, to complete the ritual. I expected that those few phrases would exponentially increase the spell's power, which it did. I did _not _expect it to bind the one casting the spell to the one having the spell cast on him, which is what I think happened." Murtagh raised an eyebrow, indicating his confusion, so Meralaena elaborated. "My language has not been spoken aloud in this land for thousands of years, since the Grey Folk's passing. I toyed with an ancient power, a power that I cannot control. I suppose we are lucky that this seems to be the only unexpected effect. When I spoke those words and channeled magic into them, they must have taken my meaning as something else, on top of what I actually said. You see," and here she paused, grey eyes distant, as if remembering, "My tongue is not like the Ancient Language. My tongue, my native speech, does much more than channel power and communicate. It _feels. _I wouldn't say that it holds a consciousness, but it is not cold and dead, either. Only the great scholars of my kind understood it. I think," and here Meralaena's tone turned uncertain, "I _think _that when I spoke the words to free you, my emotions were poured into the spell. In other words, the spell itself sensed my love for Murtagh and bound the two of us together. I died, that is the simple fact. But Murtagh did not, and as long as he was alive, somehow my soul would find its way back to this world."

Murtagh shook his head at the strangeness of it all. "It hardly matters now. What matters is that you are alive and well." Meralaena smiled at him, the confusion vanishing from her complexion to be replaced by happiness. She stopped speaking and hugged him again, relishing in his closeness.

_This is perfect, _he thought as he held her. _This is totally perfect. _A strange feeling began somewhere in his chest, right where the agony at her death had resided, and Murtagh laughed as he realized what it was. Well, what _they _were; it was two feelings, really. Two feelings that he had never really had the opportunity to feel properly.

He was drawn away from those thoughts, however, when Meralaena raised her head and, without warning, pressed her lips against his in a chaste yet intimate kiss. His eyes widened minutely before he kissed her back, returning the gentle gesture whilst conveying the depth of affection he held for her though the motion. They stayed like that for a moment before simultaneously pulling away and returning to the embrace.

"Meralaena," he whispered to the redhead curled up in his arms.

"Hmm?" she replied, shifting slightly so that she was sitting partially in his lap.

"I'm so happy right now." Murtagh smiled again, the action feeling strange on his frown-accustomed face. "I love you, Meralaena. I love you so much." He felt the Grey Folk grin against his shoulder.

"As I love you, Murtagh. As I love you."

Meralaena sighed contentedly at the feel of Murtagh against her, of his arms wrapped comfortingly and lovingly around her frame. She knew that eventually they would have to go back to the Varden and try to get the people there to accept Murtagh and Thorn again, but at the moment, neither of them cared. They had each other, and for that moment and for forever, that would be enough.

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><p><strong>The End. <strong>

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**Okay, so I had the idea to maybe write a sequel to this? I know I didn't explain how the Varden react to Murtagh and Thorn coming back because that becomes an entirely new sub-plot, so I thought perhaps, if I get enough requests, I would do a sequel. Ideas? Yes? No?**


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